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^'^^^^^^\ «-^ 






DEAMATISTS OF THE EESTOEATIOK 



W I L S N. 



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THE DRAMATIC 

/ 
WORKS OF JOHN WILSON. 

WITH PREFATORY MEMOIR, INTRODUCTIONS, 
AND NOTES. 




MDCCCLXXIV. 

EDINBUEGH: WILLIAM PATEESON. 
LONDON : H. SOTHEEAN & CO. 






MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, 
PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTT's STATIONERY OFFICF. 



TO 

WILLIAM JOHN THOMS, Esq., F.S.A., 

ETC. ETC. ETC., 

THE ORIGIXATOR, AND, FOE, 

A QtrARTER OF A CEXTTJEY, EDITOE OF 

NOTES AND QUERIES, 

THESE, THE DEAMATIC WOEKS 
OF 

JOHN WILSON, OF Lincoln's Inn, 

NOW FOE THE FIEST TIME COLLECTED, 
AEE, WITH MOST SIXCEEE EEGAEDS, INSCEIBED BY 

THE EDITORS. 



COXTEJSTTS. 

, Page 

•^The Cheats, ..... 1 

AnDRONICUS COilNENIUS, . . . .111 

The Projectoes, .... . 211 

Belphegor, ..... 279 



The information hitherto afforded us respecting John 
Wilson, the author of the plays contained in this 
volume, through the medium of Langbaine and other 
contemporaneous authorities, and reiterated by the 
editors of the Biograjphia Britannica, the Biographia 
Dramatica, and the rest of the more modern writers, 
is of a very scanty kind, resolving itself into the mere 
fact, that towards the end of the seventeenth century 
he was Recorder of Londonderry. That a man of such 
great ability as Wilson, and who in his time had 
rendered himself in some degree prominent in Ireland 
as an adherent and supporter of the cause of James 
II., should have been thrust into the shade, or, as it 
were, almost totally extinguished, may perhaps be 
accounted for by reason of his political principles, 
the tone of the times on the sudden accession of the 
House of Orange being coloured by the prevailing 
influence of the popular power, which could recognise 
only its own supporters. The continuation of Lang- 
baine — London, 1699, 12mo — contains this brief 
notice of John Wilson : 

"An author, of the place of whose birth I am ignorant. He 
was once Recorder of Londonderry, and some time resided in 
Dublin, where he wrote ' Belphegor, ' which was afterwards 
acted in London. He died about three years since, near Lei- 
cester Fields, but where buried I know not. He is author of 
four plays, viz. : — 

"Andi-onicus Comnenius : a Tragedy. 4to, 1663. Plot from 
Heylin's Cosmography in the Description of Greece, Cantacu- 
senus, Leunclavius, etc. 

"Belphegor; or, the Marriage of the Devil: a Comedy. 
4to, 1690. Acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset Garden. 
Plot taken from a novel of Machiavel and Quevedo's novels.* 

"The Cheats: a Comedy. 4to. Printed two editions, the 

* In Machiavel certainly, but not in Quevedo. 



Vm MEMOIR. 

last 1671.* This play met with applause when first acted, and 
is a diverting comedy. 

"The Projectors: a Comedy. 4to, 1665. This play met 
with no great success." 

John Wilson was the son of the Eev. Aron Wilson 
of Plymouth, from whom he derived a competent 
patrimony. He became a student of Lincoln's Inn, 
and was called to the bar on 31st October 1646 ; 22 
Car. I. It is believed that he became secretary in 
Ireland to the Duke of York, through whose influence 
he was appointed, shortly before the death of King 
Charles ii., to the ofiice of Eecorder of Londonderry; 
but this he seems to have vacated about the time of 
the siege, which began 18th April and continued till 
1st August 1689, during which, as there were neither 
mayor nor sheriff", the vocation of recorder would be 
a dead letter. It is evident that Wilson shortly after- 
wards went to Dublin, no doubt to join King James 
there, and that, hoping in the ultimate ascendency of 
the Jacobite cause, he remained a resident for some 
years afterwards. He appears to have died in London 
in 1696. 

That he was not quite so unknown to fame, as 
hitherto the writers respecting him have indicated, 
these contemporaneous lines will evince : 

" Ellis in great discontent went away, 

Whilst D'Avenant against Apollo did rage ; 
Because he declared llie Secrets di play 
Fitting for none but a mountebank stage. 

John Wilson stood up, and wildly did stare, 
When on a sudden stept in a bold Scot ; 

And offer'd Apollo he freely would swear 

The said Maister Wilson might pass for a sot. 

But all was in vain ; for Apollo, 'tis said, 
AVould in nowise allow of any Scotch wit ; 

Then Wilson in spite made his plays to be read, 
Swearing he'd answer for all he had writ." 

These lines are from '' The Sessions of the Poets, to 
the tune of Cock Laurel," in the 1st vol. of " Poems of 

* This is an error. " The Cheats " ran through four editions. 



MEMOIR. IX 

Affairs of State from the time of Oliver Cromwell to 
the abdication of K. James Second. Written by the 
greatest wits of the age." Lond. 8vo, 6th ed., 1716. 
Vol. i. ; — a continuation of " A Tryal for the Bays, in 
imitation of a satyre in Boileau, by the Duke of Buck- 
ingham, and the Earl of Eochester." — See the Works 
of his Grace, George Yilliers, late Duke of Bucking- 
ham, vol. i. p. 155, 8vo, 3d ed. 1715. 

Besides the four plays enumerated, which are in 
themselves works of immense merit, he wrote the 
following books : — 

1. Morise Encomium : or, the Praise of Folly. 'Writteii ori- 
ginally in Latin by Des. Erasmus of Eotterdam, and trans- 
lated into English by Jobn Wilson. Licensed, Eoger L'Estrange. 
London, printed for William Leak, and are to be sold at the 
Crown in Fleet Street, between the two Temple gates. 1668, 
12mo. 

2. Jus Eegium Coronse : or, the King's Supreme Power in 
dispensing with Penal Statutes ; more particularly as it relates 
to the two Test Acts of the twenty-fifth and thirtieth of his late 
Majesty, King Charles ii. Argued hy Reason, and confirmed by 
the Common and Statute Laws of this Kingdom. In two parts. 
Auctore, Jo. Wilsonio, J.C. 

Sir Edw. Coke, 1 Inst. 64. Imperii Majestas, Tutelce Salus. 
London, printed by Henry Hills, printer to the King's most 
excellent Majesty, for his household and chapel ; and are sold 
at his printing house, on the Ditch side, in Blackfriars. 1688. 
4to, pp. 79. 

The dedication runs thus : — 

"to the h6notjrable society of Lincoln's inn, 

"It is my honour, gentlemen, that I served a double appren- 
ticeship within your walls ; and however I have for many years 
discontinued, it is not possible that any man, bred in a society 
of so much learning and air, should have altogether forgotten 
what he once imbibed, 

"The loyalty of your house, excepting some single person 
here and there, was in the worst of times exemplary ; nor were 
y' last in bringing the King back again to his. And because 
the dispensing power best secures him in it, and the kingdom 
under it, unto whom more justly could I make a proof of it, 
than to that honourable body, from whom I received it ? 

* ' Such, gentlemen, is the discourse I herewith present ye ; 
and in that being now no longer mine, but yours, as none are 
more able, be also as pleased to defend it ; or so kind, at least, 
to say this of your old acquaintance : That he spoke his thoughts ; 



X MEMOIR. 

that he believed them true ; and on that account would not 
willingly quit them, till he be better informed. — Gentlemen, 
your most humble servant, John Wilson," 

The postscript is this : 

" What has been the common want to the reader suits better 
with this matter to give it here, and that is, the occasion of 
what I have written, which lies thus : — 

"His Majesty, through the greatest of difficulties, and the 
repeated but fruitless attempts of an exclusion, had, by the death 
of his late royal brother King Charles ii., come at last to the 
crown ; nor was it scarce on his head when a double rebellion 
did more than threaten it. Upon this, the King (sole judge of 
the danger of the kingdom, and in what manner to avoid it), 
being little other than necessitated either to trust those few he 
had tried, or those many others that had been for excluding 
him, grants commissions to certain persons, not qualified accord- 
ing to the said statute 25th Car. ii., with a non obstante to 
that statute. This begat some popular disputes touching the 
King's dispensing power, and those a desire in me of satisfying 
my own judgment ; and, being confirmed myself, I thought it 
my duty to strengthen others. 

"In short, it was wiitten about Easter 1686, and has but 
lately come to my hands again ; by which means I wanted the 
advantage of rivetting it with that solemn judgment in point (in 
B. E. ) in the case of Godwin versus Sir Edward Hales upon 
this statute, which was not till the Trinity term following. 
However, finding that so great a foundation for a further 
superstructure, I w^ent on with the argument upon that other 
Test Act, 30th Car. ii., as it severally respects a Peer of the 
realm and a member of the House of Commons ; and finished it 
with this : that the King might lawfully dispense with that 
statute also. But this being out of my hands, and having little 
to recover it by but some imperfect notes, I thought fit to 
publish this first part for the present, with assurance, neverthe- 
less, of that second part to follow it ; though neither of them 
had been further thought on, but that, the same dust being 
raised anew, it was but charity to keep it from blinding the 
people. " 

He also wrote : 

3. A Discourse of Monarchy, more particularly of the Imperial 
Crowns of England, Scotland, and Ireland, according to the 
Ancient, Common, and Statute Laws of the same ; with a close 
for the whole as it relates to the succession of his Eoyal High- 
ness, James, Duke of York. Deut. iv. 32 — 'Interroga de diebus 
antiquis qui fuerunt ante te, ex die quo creavit Dominus homi- 
nem super terram,' etc. London: printed by M. C. for Jos. 
Hindmarsh, bookseller to his Eoyal Highness, at the Black 
Bull in Cornhill, 1684. 8vo. 



MEMOIR. XI 

The table of contents gives for Section 10th the 
following heads, which will show the nature and 
tendency of Mr. Wilson's book : — 

"A close from the whole, by way of inquiry whether an 
exclusion of his Koyal Highness the Duke of York may be of 
more advantage or disadvantage. The advantage proposed ; 
and whether an Act for security of religion may not be as safe 
as a Bill of Exclusion, The moral impossibility of introducing 
the Komish religion, though the Prince were of that persuasion. 
The reason why the kingdom followed the Reformation under 
Edward vi., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth. That the case 
cannot be the same at this day. The crown of England an 
ancient entail, with the danger of innovations. Objection that 
such things have been done ; so has a King been murdered. 
More particularly answered in Edward iv., Queen Mary, and 
Queen Elizabeth ; all three excluded by Parliament, yet came 
to the crown. No man changes but in hopes of better. The 
advantages of continuing as we are. It is a bar to pretenders ; 
the same as to competitors. Disorders avoided. No new family 
to be provided for. The indignity of a repulse avoided. Sup- 
pose Scotland and Ireland be of another opinion, the former of 
which has by Parliament asserted the right of succession of that 
crown, notwithstanding any religion, etc. Lastly, all occasions 
of jealousy taken away. Objection answered. Disadvantages 
that have attended the laying by the right heir. Examples 
from old Rome, and usurpations at home. The revolt from 
Rehoboam ; our loss of France. With a conclusion from the 
whole, more particularly as it relates to his Royal Highness." 

The dedication runs thus : — 

"to the most honourable JAMES, DUKE OF ORMOND, ETC., 
LORD-LIEUTEiSIANT OF IRELAND. 

*' May it please your Grace, 

"It was a saying of the late Earl of Ossory (Lord-Deputy 
cf Ireland, your son, at what time he delivered up the sword of 
that kingdom to the Lord-Lieutenant Berkeley), ^ Action is the 
life of Government. ' Common experience tells us, usefulness is 
the end of action, and without which (like a glass-eye to a body), 
a man rather takes up a room than becomes any way service- 
able. The sense of this put me on those thoughts I herewith 
present your grace ; and unto whom more fitly, than to a person 
in the defence of which few men sate longer at helm, or suffered 
more ; you, that hung not up your shield of faith in the temple 
of despair, and never seemed more worthy of the great place you 
now fill than when farthest from it. Nor am I in the so doing 
without some prospect of advantage to myself; inasmuch as, if 
censuring, the age shall handle me roughly on this account, 
under your great patronage I shall fight in the shade. 



XU MEMOIR. 

"And now, my lord, I was just breaking off when it came 
into my liead that I had, in some of our late pieces, found Sir 
Edward Coke often quoted, especially to the defence of those 
notions which had better slept in their forgotten embers ; and 
therefore I thought it not altogether foreign to the matter that 
I used the words of St. Peter (2 Peter iii, 16), touching St. 
Paul's Epistles, * in which ' (saith he) * are some things hard to he 
understood, which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest, 
as they do also the other scriptures, unto their own destruction. ' 
I have purposely made use of him in many places as an high 
assertion of monarchy and prerogative; those that find him 
otherwise, 

'Habeant secum, serventque ;' 
or let him lie indifferent, my argument depends not singly on 
him ; while I humbly took leave to advert, and am, may it 
please your grace, your most obedient, obliged, humble servant, 

"John Wilson." 

In addition to a poetical epistle "to His Grace 
James, Duke of Ormond," Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, 
printed at London in 1677, Wilson addressed the 
following verses to the duke's son : — 

" To his Excellence Richard, Earl of Arran, etc. , Lord-Deputy 
of Ireland. A Poem. 'JVec deficit alter aureus, et siinilifrondescit 
virga metallo.' Dublin. Printed at His Majesty's printing 
house for Joseph "Wild, bookseller in Castle Street. 1682. Folio. " 

*'To his Excellence Richard, Earl of Arran, Lord-Deputy of 
Ireland, on the occasion of his Grace James, Duke of 
Ormond, etc., Lord- Lieutenant of the same (his father's), 
going to England and leaving the Government to him.* 
* ' Hence the nice wits that are so squeamish grown, 

Nothing will down with them but what's their owti ! 

It has been said (yet tax'd) I freeze and hum. 

And the same instant both rejoice and mourn. 

And why, I pray, mayn't different notes agree ? 

Take away discords, where's the harmony ? 

Both are met here : "We mourn one sun gone east. 

And joy : another rising in the west ; 

Such — such as had the ancient Persian 

Yiew'd the Parelia, this double sun 

Had made him stagger at the smart surprise, 

!N"or yet resolv'd, divide his sacrifice. 

'Tis now past twenty times since th' Ormond stem 
First branch'd itself in such a princely brain ; 
And may it yet increase, and multiply 
Its scatter'd rays into a galaxy ! 

* James, Duke of Ormond, returned Lord-Lieutenant in 1684. 



MEMOIR. XUl 

Spread-eagles join in body ; Lucifer 
And Vesper are the same alternate star ; 
The elements, Castor and Pollux, too. 
Believe each other, and in that still new. 

Nature had never made a second day 
"Without a night's repose : that short allay 
Stamp'd us another, and that timely care 
Stepp'd in, and sav'd the infant world's despair. 

And now 'tis but a day from sun to sun ; 
The one takes up, the other holds it on : 
Seasons to seasons give a fresh supply ; 
The year absolv'd, comes the Epiphany. 

Such your most noble father, sir's, with you ; 
He closes one, and you begin the new : 
And be his motions yours, I'll boldly say. 
The sun withdrew, and yet we lost no day. 

J. Wilson." 

This will be found in a folio volume in the British 
Museum, — Sig. ^^'J' ° , — immediately following which 
this ill-humoured rejoinder occurs in MS. 

** On Mr. "Wilson's admirable copy of verses dedicated to his 
Excellency the Earl of Arran : — 

" Hence the nice wits who are so squeamish grown, 
Nothing will down with them but what's their own ! " 

".'Twas wholesome council, and 'twas fairly done, 
To tell them their dull fare before they come ; 
Their puny stomachs never would digest 
This nauseous stuff of thine, this porters' feast. 
But yet, methinks, 'twas prodigal to rhyme 
Out of that slender shallow stock of thine ; 
Thy name in preface might have done as well : 
' Here, little Wilson, here doth dulness dwell. ' 
For who the devil with appetite would look 
On such a dish, and dress'd by such a cook ? 
Who can endure, dost think, to see thee run 
For an old threadbare simile to the sun ? 
A thing the very Phillis-fools despise, 
And far more bright than the fair Celia's eyes. 
But thus from thy parelia to fall 
To Lucifer and Hespers ; worst of all 
To treat thy prince with scraps pick'd here and there 
From sacred Lilly and the famous Hare. 
Tell me, for sure thou did'st it out of sport. 
To show thy worst ; or was't compos'd in coui*t. 
Where thou that Latin cub of thine brought forth, 
To boast thy haughty ignorance in both ? 



XIV MESrorR. 

By heaven, were I in 's Excellency's case, 

I'd hang the wretch that did me this disgrace. 

'Tis time, indeed^ the style may serve to show 

When sun's in Cancer, when in Scorpio, 

To help a wretched almanac's dull sale. 

And martyrdom of Christmas pies bewail. 

But never, sm-e, did flattering poet kiss 

The hands of prince in such a style as this — 

A style whose panegyric is abuse, 

AVhich nothing but his madness can excuse ; 

For mad he is, — at least he is possess'd. 

The fiend Belphegor heaves within his breast, — 

Else why should he poetic strains essay 

Since the sad fate of that unhappy play ? * 

'Tis true his ' Cheats,' tho' stol'n, had great applause. 

And thence, alas ! sprang the unlucky cause 

Of his succeeding trifles. Swell'd with praise. 

The fiend Belphegor he from hell must raise ; 

Thence these lewd lines (which surely were not stol'n — 

They're dull enough, I'm sure, to be his own). 

Thus a vile fawning dog, if heretofore 

He chance to please you once, will ne'er give o'er ; 

Impertinent about your feet he '11 play. 

Till you are forc'd to spurn the cur away." 

Prior to the appearance of Wilson's play, Anclro- 
nicus Comnenius, an anonymous author had written 
one on the same subject. It is titled, "Andronicus : 
A Tragedy. Impiety's long Success, or Heaven's late 
Eevenge. Discite justitiam moniti, et ne temnite Divos. 
London, printed for Eichard Hall, and are to be sold 
at the stationers in London, 1661. 12mo." 

Mr. Geneste has overlooked this play, of which the 
author gives this account in his Address to the 
Eeader : — 

' ' Let me acquaint thee with the pedigree and progress (not 
to say pilgrimage) of this tragedy. It was born some eighteen 
years since in Oxford, thence carried by a casualty to York. 
The author thereof, conceiving this (the only copy) utterly lost, 
found it, beyond his expectation, in I^ondon some months 
since. 

' ' Thus, weary with long wandering, it hopeth at last to find 

* As the play of Belphegor was not printed until 1690, and 
Geneste notes that it was "hcensed October 13, 1690," it may be 
inferred from what this writer says, that an earher edition had 
been acted prior to 1682 without success. AVe may therefore 
assume that Wilson improved the piece before printing it. 



MEMOIR. XV 

quiet repose and candid reception, reader, with thee. Tt hath 
in it some negative goodness, namely, nothing therein which 
in the least degree trespasseth on piety, charity, or modesty. 
Besides, it presumeth on something positivcy viz. variety and 
verity — the one to please, the other to profit. And if the poet 
brought the varnish, the historian, I am sure, gave the ground- 
work. 

""What moved the author to make it may invite thee to 
read it, — diversion of his mind from the troubles of the times. 
I have done, when I have remembered thee of Avhat I have read 
in Mr. Herbert : *A verse may find him out who shuns a sermon. ' 
And such is the genius of our times, that those who dislike 
more serious matters may benefit by these lighter treatments of 
their time. If the author hereof hath intrench'd on his fancy, 
upon him who wrote the life of Andronicus in the Holy State, 
he doubts not but to obtain his pardon, as also hopes to have 
thine for his failings herein. — Philaxax." 

There is a formidable list of dramatis personm, 
■which is as follows : — 

1. Maria Cesarissa, daughter to Manuel, late Emperor of 

Constantinople. 

2. Zena, the Empress, mother to Alexius. 

4 fre^r^' ! ^^^®^ of honour to Zena. 

5. Artemia, a court lady, wife to Menander. 

6. Anna, Empress to Alexius, afterwards to Andronicus. 

7. Juletta, maid of honour to Anna. 

8. Akxius, son of Manuel, and Emperor. 

9. Andronicus, kinsman, murderer, and successor to Alexius. 

10. Isachius, next of the imperial line, at last Emperor. 

11. Ducas, a prince of the blood. 

12. Basilius, patriarch of Constantinople. 

13. Monobius, a hermit ncAvly quitting his cell. 

14. Cleohulus, an aged privy councillor. 

15. Paleologus, a j'^oung corn-tier. 

16. Lapardus, an instrument to promote Andronicus. 

17. Menander, a courtier, and husband to Artemia. 

18. Crato, a statesman. 

19. Assotus, a dissolute man, and debaucher of Alexius. 

20. Panergus, engineer - general to Andronicus in all his 

villainies. 

21. Philohihlus, tutor to Alexius. 

22. Spiculator, an executioner. 

23. Nurse, Servants, Surgeons, Messengers, and Citizens. 

The Scene : Constantinople. 
A contemporaneous reader of the copy of this play- 
in the British Museum has issued summary judgment 



XVI MEMOIR. 

upon its merits, by writing "verry badd" at the 
beginning of the first scene, and repeating his expres- 
sive phrase after the word "Finis." Without adopting 
this early reader's opinion, we content ourselves by 
saying that it is an eccentric production, and the 
poetry is in most instances truly original. In the 
first scene between Maria Cesarissa and her nurse, 
Alexius is thus spoken of : — 

*' jVwr. Have patience, madam ; matters may amend : 
The Emperor's yet a child. 

Mar. And child in judgment he will ever be. 
No monster doth more hate a looking-glass 
Than he a book ; his wit's too short to measure 
A noble sport or honourable pleasure. 
Only he sits, and sots, and drinks, and sleeps : 
The stews are brought him, or he to th' stews. 

Nur. Andronicus will shortly here arrive. 
And by him all things will be rectified. 

Mar. Well, I could tell you something if I durst. 

Nur. Madam, do ! 
If I reveal it, let me be accurst. 
Sooner the very stones themselves shall speak. 

Mar. That's not impossible ; 
In churches oft I have seen speaking stone. 

Nur. Midnight shall turn a clack sooner than I. 

Mar. 'Tis this : I do not think Andronicus 
"Will help us any whit. 

Nur. Know you the man ? 

Mar. Were all faults lost, in him they might be found." 

There are other passages equally, if not more grand- 
iloquent than this, and some of the situations are 
bordering closely on the ludicrous ; but to pursue the 
subject farther would be only to bestow our tedious- 
ness too long upon our patient readers, who, if they 
wish to peruse the play itself, will find the only copy, 
it is believed, extant, in the King's Library, British 
Museum. 

James Maidment. 

W. H. Logan. 

Edinburgh, 1st Novemher 1873. 



THE CHEATS. 



The Cheats : A Comedy. Written in the yea?' 1662. Hor. 
Serm. 1. — ' Hidenteni dicei-e verum, Quis vetat?' Imprimatur, 
Nov. 5, 1663. Imager L' Estrange. London, Printed for G. 
Bedell and T. Collins, at the Middle- Temple-Gate; and Cha. 
Adams, at the Talbott, over against St. Dunstan's Church in 
Fleet Street. 1664. 4to. 

The Cheats. The Second Edition, 1671. 

The Cheats. The Third Edition. Printed by James Raio- 
lins for John Wright, Moses Pitt, Thomas Saiobridge, and 
Gabriel Collins. 1684. 

The Cheats. The Fourth Edition, corrected, loith the addition 
of a new Song. By J. Wilsoji of Lincoln s Lin, Gent. Printed 
for J, Walthoe in Vine-Court, Middle-Temple. 1693. 



The comedy which follows is cleverly wiitten, and in style re- 
sembles that of Ben Jonson more than of any other writer. 
On its earliest production on the stage it was received with 
applause, which was not diminished on every fresh revival. 
Langbaine, in speaking of the author, says: "His play called 
The Cheats having the general approbation of being an excellent 
comedy," while the editors of the Biographia Dramatica are 
equally laudatory. They remark: "This play met with general 
approbation, and very deservedly ; notwithstanding which, the 
author's modesty induced him to make an apology for its faults, 
in a preface to the earlier editions." Geneste, although he 
affirms that "some parts of it are very dull," corroborates the 
general opinion that "on the whole it is a good play." The 
"preface" alluded to, however, as will be seen, is more a 
disavowal of any intention of personality than an apology for 
faults. 

The popularitj'^ of The Cheats caused the issue of several 
editions. The text presently adopted is that of the fourth, it 
being the last published during the author's lifetime, and "with 
the addition of a new song." Prior to the introduction of this 
song, and the short relative dialogue preceding it, which now 
appears in the concluding scene, Whitebroth immediately 
followed up the dance with the words: "Why so? We're all 
friends," etc., the play ending as now. 

Although this comedy was acted frequently before the fourth 
edition appeared in 1693, none of the actors' names are earlier 
given ; but it is evident that the cast is that originally made, 
several of them being at that date dead or retired from the 
stage. 

William Wintershall or Wintersell died in July 1679. He is 
spoken of in Buckingham's Rehearsal, and in the prefixed Key 
is characterized as a most judicious actor, and the best instructor 
of others. Downes says he was a good performer in tragedy 
and comedy, and that, as "Cokes" in Bartholomew Fair, Nokes 
fell short of him. Downes commends him highly as Master 
Slender. Pepys, on 28th April 1668, has this entry : "In the 
King's house, and there did see Love in a Maze, wherein very 
good mirth of Lacy, the clown, and Wintershall, the country 
knight, his master. " 

William Cartwright was one of Killigrew's company at the 
original establishment of Drury Lane. By his will, dated 
1686, he left his books, pictures, and furniture to Dulwich 
College, where also his portrait still remains. 



4 THE CHEATS. 

Oldys in his notes says, in reference to tlie library in Dul- 
wich College, "to which Mr. Cartwright, a player, who was 
bred a bookseller, and had a shop at the end of Turnstile Alley, 
gave a collection of plays, and also many excellent pictures." 

"Here comes in the Queen's purchase of plays [formerly 
Mrs. Oldfield's], and those by Mr. "Weever, the dancing master, 
Sir Charles Cotterell, Mr. Coxeter, Lady Pomfret, and Lady 
Mary Wortley Montague, " 

Pepys mentions Cartwright thus : "2d Nov. 1667. — To the 
King's playhouse, and there saw Henry the Fourth; and, con- 
trary to expectation, was pleased in nothing more than in 
Cartwright's speaking of Falstafife's speech about 'What is 
Honour?'" 

Cartwright and Wintershall belonged to the private house in 
Salisbury Court. 

Nicholas Burt, as a boy, was first under Shanke at Black- 
friars, and then under Beeston at the Cockpit, where he used 
to play the principal female parts, particularly "Clariana" in 
Love's Cruelty. — Wright's Historia Histrionica. 

On the 11th October 1660, Pepys says: "Here, in the Park, 
we met with Mr. Salisbury, who took Mr. Creed and me to the 
Cockpit to see The Moor of Venice, which was well done. Burt 
acted the ' Moor ; ' by the same token, a very pretty lady that sat 
by me called out to see Desdemona smothered. With Mr. Creed 
to Hercules Pillar, where we drank. " Davies, in 'hiQ Miscellanies, 
observes that Burt ranked in the list of good actors after the 
Restoration, though he resigned the part of " Othello" to Hart. 
Pepys, on the other hand, contradicts this in some degree. There 
is this entry in his diary, of 6th February 1668-9 : " To the 
King's playhouse, and there, in an upper box, — where come in 
Colonel Poynton and Doll Stacey, who is very fine, and by her 
wedding ring I suppose he hath married her at last, — did see 
The Moor of Venice, but ill acted in most parts. Mohun, which 
did a little surprise me, not acting 'lago's' part by much so 
well as Clun used to do; nor another Hart's, which was 'Cassio's;' 
nor, indeed, Burt doing the 'Moor's' so well as I once thought 
he did." 

Pepys does not appear latterly to have thought much of 
Burt. He had recorded his feeling respecting him on a previous 
occasion thus: " 11th Dec. 1667. — Attended the Duke of York, 
as we are wont, who is now grown pretty well, and goes up 
and down Whitehall, and this right will be at the Council. 
Here I met Rolt and Sir John Chichly ; and I met Harris, the 
player,^ and talked of Catiline, which is to be suddenly acted 
at the King's house ; and there all agree that it cannot be well 
done at that house, there not being good actors enough; and 
Burt acts ' Cicero, ' which they all conclude he will not be able 
to do well. The King gives them £500 for robes, there being, 
as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes. " 



THE CHEATS. 5 

Charles Hart was great-nephew, as is believed, to William 
Shakespeare, and one of the most celebrated tragedians of his 
time. Some have said that he was ISTell Gwyn's first lover. 
Others, again, assert that Nell's first admirer was Kobert Duncan 
or Dungan, for whom she obtained a commission in the Guards. 
— Cunningham's Story of Nell Gwyn, p. 27. See also Notes 
and Queries, 3d series, i. 286. It is very questionable whether 
either were in that position, or whether she herself was aware 
of who was her first lover, her earliest life having been passed 
in no very reputable company. However, it is not a matter 
of consequence, as she had a pretty accurate idea of who was 
the father of the ancestors of the Dukes of St. Albans, her sur- 
viving issue. Sir George Etherege, in a satirical poem printed 
in the Lives of the Most Celebrated Beauties, etc., 1715, says 
she was "protected" by Lacy, and afterwards by Hart. At all 
events it is certain that, previous to her elevation to Eoyal 
favour, Nell received instructions in the Thespian art from both, 
these gentlemen. 

Malone says : "Charles Hart, the actor, was born about the 
year 1630, and died in August 1683. If he was a grandson of 
Shakespeare's sister, he was probably the son of Michael Hart, 
her youngest son." 

Hart, who used to play " Cassio," while Burt played 
"Othello," became soon so superior to Burt that he took the 
lead of him in almost all the plays acted at Drury Lane. 
Othello was one of his master parts. — Davies. He also be- 
came great in Wycherly's Plain Dealer. 

Hart and Clun, as boys at Blackfriars, played female parts. 
Hart was Eobinson's boy or apprentice; he acted the "Duchess" 
in the tragedy of The Cardinal, which was the first part that 
brought him into notice. The principal actors, such as Robin- 
son, formerly performed on the sharing system. Usually the 
sharers were not more than twelve. The inferior actors were 
retained, by the name of hirelings, at a weekly salary defrayed 
by the sharers, each of whom was entitled to have a boy for 
youthful or female parts. For the services of these boys their 
masters received a stipulated sum. 

Hart and Killigrew, soon after the theatre in Drury Lane was 
burnt down, 1671-2, sent Jo. Haynes to Paris to examine the 
machinery displayed in the French opera, with a view to the 
adoption of its best features in this country. The King's com- 
pany, after being burnt out, took refuge in the theatre in 
Lincobi's- Inn-Fields, which had been vacant since the Novem- 
ber previous. They opened on 26th February 1671-2, with the 
play of Wit without Money. 

Richard Robinson, above mentioned, circa 1616, usually 
performed female characters himself. (See The Devil is an Ass, 
act ii., scene 3.) In 1647 his name occurs, with several others, 
prefixed to the dedication of the first folio edition of Fletcher's 



6 THE CHEATS. 

plays. He served in the King's army in the civil wars, and was 
killed in an engagement by Harrison, who refused him quarter, 
and who was afterwards hanged at Charing Cross. 

The patent of the Theatre Rcyal, Drury Lane, of which Mr. 
Hart and Major Mohun formed part of the company, having 
descended from Thomas to Charles Killigrew, "in 1682 he 
joined it to Dr. Davenant's patent, whose company acted 
then in Dorset Garden, which, upon the union, were created 
the King's company ; after which Mr. Hart acted no more, 
having a pension to the day of his death from the united 
company. I must not omit to mention the parts in several 
plays of some of the actors, wherein they excelled in the per- 
formance of them. First, Mr. Hart in the part of 'Arbaces' 
in King and no King, ' Amintor ' in The Maid's Tragedy, 
' Othello, ' ' Rollo, ' ' Brutus ' in Julius Ccesar, ' Alexander. ' 
Towards the latter end of his acting, if he acted in any one of 
these but once in a fortnight, the house was filled as at a new 
play, especially 'Alexander' — he acting that with such grandeur 
and agreeable majesty, that one of the court was pleased to 
honour him with this commendation, that Hart might teach 
any king on earth how to comport himself. " — Downes' Roscius 
Anglicanus, edit. 1789. 

In Eymer's Dissertation on Tragedy he is thus noticed : — 
*' The eyes of the audience are prepossessed and charmed by his 
action before aught of the poet can approach their ears; and to 
the most wretched of characters Hart gives a lustre which dazzles 
the sight, that the deformities of the poet cannot be perceived." 

Again, Downes: "He was no less inferior in comedy, as 
' Mosca ' in The Fox ; * Don John ' in The Chances; ' Wildblood,' 
in The Mock Astrologer, with sundry other parts. In all the 
comedies and tragedies he was concerned, he perform'd with 
that exactness and perfection that not any of his successors have 
equall'd him." 

It would seem that, through Hart's "excellent action" alone, 
Ben Jonson's Catiline {his own favourite play), which had been 
condemned on its first representation, was kept on the stage 
dm-ing the reign of Charles II. With Hart this play died. 

The cause of Hart retiring from the stage was by reason of 
his being dreadfully afflicted with the stone and gravel, "of 
which he died some time after, having a salary of forty shillings 
a week to the day of his death." 

Clun was barbarously murdered on the night of the 4th of 
August 1664, on his way out of town to his country house, after 
having performed the character of the " Alchymist," which was 
one of his best parts. Pepys says he was "set upon and 
murdered; one of the rogues taken, an Irish fellow. It seems 
most cruelly butchered and bound," naively adding, "the house 
will have a great miss of him." 

Five years afterwards, Clun still dwells in Pepys' remem- 



THE CHEATS. 7 

brance. "17th April 1669, — At noon, home to dinner, and 
there find Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, and he dined with us; and 
there hearing that The Alchy7nist was acted, we did go, and 
took him with us to the King's house, and it is still a good 
play, having not been acted for two or three years before; but I 
do miss Clun for the ' Doctor.'" 

"Ben Jonson had one eie lower than t'other, and bigger, 
like Clun, the player. Perhaps he begott Clun." — Aubrey's 
Lives, 8vo, 1813. — Art. Ben Jonson. 

John Lacy was originally a dancing master. He subse- 
quently procured a lieutenant's commission in the army, which 
ere long he quitted for the stage, Pepys characterizes him as 
an admirable actor, and Langbaine says he "performed all parts 
that he undertook to a miracle, insomuch that I am apt to 
believe, that as this age never had, so the next never will have, 
his equal, at least not his superior. " He was notable in eccentric 
parts, such as Frenchmen, low Irishmen, Scotchmen, etc. He 
died in 1667. 

The King would appear, from the following entry of Pepys, 
8th May 1663, to have preferred Lacy to Clun : "Took my 
wife and Ashwell to the [new] Theatre Royall, being the 
second day of its being opened. The house is made with ex- 
traordinary good convenience, and yet hath some faults, as the 
narrowness of the passages in and out of the pit, and the dis- 
tance from the stage to the boxes, which I am confident cannot 
hear ; but for all other things is well ; only, above all, the 
musique being below, and most of it sounding under the very 
stage, there is no hearing of the bases at all, nor very well of 
the trebles, which sure must be mended. The play was The 
Humorous Lieutenant, a play that hath little good in it, nor 
much in the very part which, by the King's command. Lacy 
now acts instead of Clun, In the dance, the tall devil's actions 
were very pretty, " 

Langbaine speaks of Lacy as the most perfect actor of his 
time; he was one of the recruits which they engaged in the 
King's Company, for there is no trace of his having ever acted 
before the Restoration, He wrote three plays, and died about 
the year 1684, — Davies. See an account of Lacy in the Bio- 
graphia Drainatica ; also, in his own collected works, in this 
edition of the Dramatists. 

Lacy played " Falstaff " during the life of Cartwright. On 
account, I suppose, of his superior excellence, Langbaine speaks 
of his admirable representation of " Falstaff"," — Davies. 

Downes, in detailing the new plays acted, among others 
mentions The Behearsal, in which last Mr. Lacy, 

" For his just acting, all gave him due praise, 
His part in The Cheats, Jony Thump, 
Teg, and Bayes ! 
In these four excelling, the Court gave him the bays ! '* 



S THE CHEATS. 

Michael Mohiin, better known as Major Mohun, he having 
held a commission during the civil wars, was brought up as an 
actor under Robinson, as Hart and others were. In his youth 
he acted " Bellamente" in Love's Cruelty, "which part," accord- 
ing to Wright, "he retained after the Restoration." Mohun 
and Shatterel were, according to the same authority, boys along 
with Burt under Beeston, afterwards at the Cockpit. Major 
Mohun remained in the " United Company" after Hart's retire- 
ment. "He was eminent for ' Volpone;' 'Face' in The Alchy- 
mist; 'Melanthius' in The Maid's Tragedy; 'Mardonius' in 
King and no King; 'Cassius' in Julius Coesar; 'Clytus' in 
Alexander; 'Mithridates,' etc. An eminent poet [thought by 
Thomas Davies to have been Lee] seeing him act this last, 
ventured suddenly this saying : ' Oh, Mohun, Mohun ! thou 
little man of mettle; if I should write 100 plays, I'd write a part 
for thy mouth.' In short, in all his parts he was most accurate 
and correct. "^ — ^Downes' Jioscius Anglkanus. 

Davies further observes, that Lee "was himself so good a 
reader of his own tragedies, that Mohun frequently threw down 
his part, in despair of approaching to his excellence of ex- 
pression. " 

Pepys has this entry of Mohun's first appearance after the 
Restoration : " 20th November 1660.— Mr. Shepley and I to the 
new playhouse, near Lincoln's-Inn-Fields (which was formerly 
Gibbon's Tennis Court), where the play of Beggar's Bush 
was newly begun ; and so we went in, and saw it well acted. 
And here I saw for the first time one Moone, who is said to be 
the best actor in the world, lately come over with the King ; 
and, indeed, it is the finest playhouse, I believe, that ever was 
in England." 

Mohun appears to have had the ear of his majesty, for on the 
occasion of the Honl^Ie. Edw^ard Howard's play, called The Change 
of Croivns, having given offence to Charles — 15th April 1667 — 
and performances at the theatre having in consequence been 
forbidden, he interceded, and "got leave for them to act again, 
but not this play." Pepys calls it "a great play, and serious ; 
only Lacy did act the country gentleman come up to court, who 
so abuses the court with all the imaginable wit and plainness 
about selling of places, and doing everything for money. The 
play took very well." " Knipp tells me the King was so angiy 
at the liberty taken by Lacy's part, to abuse him to his face." 

Davies records that "King Charles II., being asked how he 
liked Mohun's acting in a certain play, said that Mohun, or 
Moon, as usually pronounced, shone like the sun, and Hart 
like the moon." Waldron, commenting on this anecdote, says : 
^'Charles II. is somewhere characterized as having never said a 
foolish thing, nor ever done a wise one. This play upon the 
words sun and moon might pass for wit in a king, but would 
not be so reputed in a subject. " 



THE CHEATS. 9 

Rymer, in The Tragedies of the Last Age Considered, thus 
criticizes these two actors: "We may remember (however we 
find this scene of 'Melanthius' and 'Amintor' written in the 
book) that at the theatre we have a good scene acted ; there is a 
work cut out, and both our ^sopus and Eoscius are on the 
stage together. Whatever defect may be in 'Amintor' and 
' Melanthius, ' Mr. Hart and Mr. Mohun are wanting in nothing. 
To these we owe what is pleasing in the scene, and to this scene 
WG may impute the success of The Maid's Tragedy. " 

In A Comparison between the Two Stages, this anecdote is 
given : "The late Duke of Monmouth* was a good judge of 
dancing, and a good dancer himself. When he returned from 
France, he brought vdth him St. Andre, then the best master 
in France. The Duke presented him to the stage ; the stage, to 
gratifie the Duke, admitted him, and the Duke himself thought 
he might prove a mighty advantage to 'em, tho' he had nobody 
else of his opinion. A day was published in the bills for him 
to dance, but not one more besides the Duke and his friends 
came to see him. The reason was, the plays were then so good, 
and Hart and Mohun acted 'em so well, that the audience would 
not be interrupted for so short a time, tho' 'twas to see the best 
master in Europe. " 

Mohun acted, in 1682, in The Persian Prince, by Southern ; 
and "Burleigh," in The Unhappy Favourite, by Banks, in 
1685. 

Geneste observes: "Robert Shatterel was a performer of 
repute. William Shatterel seems to have been an actor of the 
lowest rank." William Shotterel or Shatterel, as his name is 
frequently printed, is the actor who was associated with the 
others just enumerated. He performed such characters as 
"Voltore," in The Fox; "Sir John Daw," in The Silent 
Woman; "Foyns," in King Heni'y IV., etc. 

The actress who played "Mrs. Whitebroth" in the present 
comedy, whose name is printed " Covey," must have been Mrs. 
Corey. Her name appears in the list of those who had acted 
under Killigrew's patent, and who remained on the union of the 
two companies in 1682. Downes gives the list as follows : — 
Major Mohun, Mr. CartwTight, Mr. Kynaston, Mr. Griffin, Mr. 
Goodman, Mr. Duke Watson, Mr. Powel, sen,, Mr. Wiltshire, 
Mrs. Corey, Mrs. Bowtell, Mrs. Cook, Mrs. Montfort, etc. 

On 26th November 1720, The Cheats was played at Lincoln's- 
Inn-Fields — " not acted twenty years" — "Whitebroth," Mr. C. 
Bullock. On the 20th May following it was again performed. 
The cast then was "Scruple," Griffin; "Mopus," Harper; 
" Afterwit," Leigh; "Jolly," Diggs ; "Eunter," Boheme ; 
"Double Diligence," Bullock; "Tyro," Pack; " Bilboe," 
Egleton ; "Titere Tu," H. Bullock ; "Mrs. Whitebroth," Mrs. 

* See notes appended to the Masque of Calisto, in Crowne's Works, vol. i. 
of this series. 



10 THE CHEATS. 

Gifford ; "Mrs. Mopus," Mrs. Elsam; "Mrs. Double Diligence, " 
Mrs. Gulick ; "Beatrice," Mrs. Knapp ; " Cis," Miss Stone. 
Geneste has this remark: "Alderman "Whitebroth is omitted 
— C. Bullock was no doubt ill. The bill for January 23, 1720, 
gives us reason to suppose that Egleton played 'Apish' [in 
The Quaker's Wedding], May 10, 1721, in consequence of C. 
Bullock's illness. " 

In all the editions of The Cheats prior to the fourth, the 
second prologue is thus headed: "Another. Intended, upon 
the revival of the play, but not spoken." 

The licence granted by Sir Eoger L'Esti-ange for this play 
was simply a licence for printing, in terms of an existing act 
which terminated in 1679, Sir Roger had no connection with 
the stage. 

Further reference as to the actors of the time may be made 
to the inti'oductory memoir of Sir William Davenant, in the first 
volume of his Dramatic Works in the present series. 



THE AUTHOE TO THE EEADER. 

— Non omnibus unum est 
Quod placet, hie, Spinas colligit, ille, Rosas. 

— Petron. Aebiter. 

I HAVE ever had so little faith for apologies, that I 
rather believ'd they did more hurt than good, and, 
for the most part, left things in a worse condition 
than they found them. The sense of this made me 
pass some late censures in silence, and perhaps might 
have oblig'd me to the same still, had I not found a 
dust rais'd, and believ'd it my concern to blow it off, 
— at least, endeavour it. To come to the matter : this 
comedy was lately acted, and, as it fares with things 
of this nature, variously receiv'd; nor could I well 
have expected other. It were too much fondness, not 
to say worse, to tax that freedom in another which I 
should think hard to be denied myself No, this is 
nothing of the point. All that I take notice of is this, 
how justly it may have deserv'd all that has been said 
upon 't ; unless people would have it dealt with like 
Don Quixote's library, — some burnt for the curate's 
sake, others for the barber's, and not the least for the 
good woman's. Not to detain you longer in the 
porch, I have at present but this short request, that 
it may speak for itself. And first, to take the parts 
as they lie, I shall begin with Bilboe and Titere Tu, 
the one usurping the name of a Major, the other of a 
Captain ; whereas, in truth, and as may be gather'd 
from their discourse, they never were either, or 
scarcely anything like it, — a humour that can be 
no wise strange to any man that knew this town 
between the years '46 and '50, and, being so under- 
stood, will be as unlikely to prove an occasion of 
scandal to any person of honour ; for if I have shown 
the odd practices of two vain persons pretending to 
what they were not, I think I have sufficiently justified 



12 THE CHEATS. 

the brave man even by this reason, that the excep- 
tion proves the rule. And further, if there be any- 
thing in their language that may seem loose, be pleased 
to consider who they are that speak it ; and then I 
hope you'll thus far absolve me as to say, I had as ill 
brought 'um in with a pair of beads at their girdle, as 
my Puritan constable with a feather in his cap. But 
secondly, for the second scene ; I am confident I may 
pass it and come to the third, where, and in other 
parts of the play, if you meet with a small pretender 
to astrology, physic, the Rosicrucian humour, fortune- 
telling, and I know not what, — or in the fifth act, 
qualiacunque voles vmdentem somnia, I shall, instead of 
plea to it, only enlarge my request, That you would 
but run over the late adventures of that kind, the sad 
effects of which may be well fear'd to live among the 
people when the persons that writ 'um may be either 
dead or forgotten. Nor do I think I ought to ask 
pardon that I have taken a Levite to this teraphim, 
since whoever shall give himself the trouble of inquiry 
will, without the least force, easily find that both alike 
have spoken vanity. But fourthly, for what concerns 
Runter, though I think I might have let that pass too, 
yet, because I would not be misunderstood, give me 
leave to believe that no wise man can conceive either 
profession, viz. common or civil law, could be intended 
in it. For as to the first, those that know my way of 
education will be ready to excuse me thus far, that had 
I design' d that I must necessarily have laid it another 
way, and perhaps, too, might have been able to have 
done 't ; or, if I had struck at the latter, that I was not so 
altogether a stranger to it as not to have run it higher. 
Let this suffice to both, that I made use of no more 
than what serv'd to my purpose. And so I leave it to 
a favourable interpretation, and come to the fifth scene, 
viz. Mr. Scruple ; where, if any man shall say I have 
trod too near upon religion, I hope, upon his second 
thoughts, I may trust my cause with him, when, if he 
shall rightly understand it, he will easily perceive that 
I have only shown how that venerable name has been 



THE CHEATS. 13 

abus'd, and that best thing made bawd to the worst 
actions. Lastly, to any man that shall say such or 
such humours have either been in the town before, or 
formerly writ upon, give me leave to offer this to the 
first, that Comedy either is or should be the true 
picture of virtue or vice, yet so drawn as to show a 
man how to follow the one and avoid the other ; in 
doing which, if I had fram'd anything that was not, I 
had not only belied the town, but wrong'd myself. 
Doth not Martial say of his epigrams, 'Didavit auditm^f 
And was not Quicquid agant homines, Juvenal's farrago 1 
As to the second, if it has been said so long since that 
there is nothing which has not been before, I hope, if I 
may have border'd upon anyone that has gone before, 
I am thus far excusable that I have purposely declin'd 
both his matter and his way. To which, if the con- 
trary shall chance to be objected, I think it enough at 
present to say, I am in possession ; and a bare ' the}^ 
say,' without showing it, will not be sufficient to evict 
me out of it. To be short, were there nothing more, 
even this were enough, that there is hardly anything 
left to write upon but what either the ancients or 
moderns have some way or other touch'd on. Did not 
Apuleius take the rise of his Golden Ass from Lucian's 
Lucius f And Erasmus his Akumistica from Chaucer's 
Canon's Yeoman's Tale ? And Ben Johnson his more 
happy Alcliymist from both 1 The argument w^ere 
everlasting, Sed Cynthius aurem vellit, et admonuit; 
and therefore, upon the whole matter, whoever may 
have seen the play, or shall happen to read this, I have 
but two things more to beg of him, — the one, that 
by a new comment he pick not out any ill meaning 
which I never intended — Improbe facit, qui in alieno 
libro ingeniosus est ; the other, that he remember that 
of the tragedian — Si judicas, cognosce. And then, per- 
haps, I may have deserv'd his thanks, that I thus 
hung out the buoy to discover the rock, and drew the 
curtain from an old cheat, to no other end but to 
prevent a new. Farewell ! 
Lincoln's Inn, Nov. 16, 1633. 



THE PEOLOGUE. 

Custom prevails, and somewhat must be said 

To tie your hands, and save the author's head. 

'Tis a new play ! you'll cry. What then 1 'Twere too, 

Too much to find you meat and stomachs too. 

But since it must, expect no bill of fare. 

No ! I shall only tell ye — what's not here ! 

We've no sententious sir, no grave Sir Poll, 
No little pug nor devil, — bless us all ! 
No tedious sieges to the music room. 
Nor frisks abroad ! No, — our scene's all at home I 
But if you ask me, how 1 'Troth, I've forgot. 
And, now I think on 't, it may spoil the plot 
To give 't you beforehand. Whate'er it be, 
Have but a little patience and you'll see. 



ANOTHER. 

LPpon the revival of the Play, after it had been suppressed 
by a faction. 

Sad news, my masters ! and too true, I fear, 

For us ! Scruple's a silenc'd minister. 

Would ye the cause 1 The brethren snivel and say, 

'Tis scandalous that any cheat but they. 

Well, — to be short ; h'as been before the triers, 

And, by good fortune, is got out o' th' briers. 

Where, if he lost a limb to save the rest, 

No hurt ; here's yet enough to know the beast ! 

Nor let the sisters pule ! I'll tell y' a thing, — 

He may be libb'd, and yet have left a string ! 



THE EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN BY MOPUS. 

I HAD almost forgot ! Let's see — what weather ? 
Nor fair — ^nor foul, — ^indifferent, — both together ; 
Clear, if no clouds nor rniz'ling. If there should, 
It shall proceed from former causes. Good ! 

So much for doctrine ! To apply it, now ! 
YeVe had a play, but whether good or no, 
'Tis past my globe ; yet guess, the weather will 
Prove fair enough unless you make it ill. 

'Tis you must make the play or stand or fall ; 
Therefore, by me, to you, and you, and all. 
The author bows. And perhaps reason for 't — 
Some men the judge, others the jury court ; 
The one more just if unconcerned ; the other 
More pitiful ; if he claps both together 
He means no hurt, for in a common hall 
Noise carries it. He fain would please you all. 
You've had for pit, for box, for gallery too ; 
Keep your own posts and he is well enou'. 
But, if you must lash out, and think you can't 
Be wits yourselves unless you pique and rant, 
At your own peril be 't ; and further know, 
Who gives a character, in one, gives two. 
He hopes the best, — nor will we be perplext ; 
Laugh hearty now, and he shall fix you next ! 



THE PERSONS. 

With some of the first Actm^s' names. 

Whitebroth, An Alderman, Mr. Cartwright. 
RuNTER, A Civilian, . . Mr. Wintersal. 
Afterwit, a Gentleman, Suitor} ^/r^ -p^^^ 

to Beatrice, . . . j" ^^- ^^^^• 
Jolly, His Friend, . . Mr. Hart. 
Tyro, A young Squire, Pretender} 

to Beatrice, . . . ) 

Scruple, A Nonconfm-mist, . Mr. Lacy. 
Mopus, An Astrological Physician, Mr. Mohun. 
f 2\vo Hectors ; the ] 

BiLBOE, J ""^ '''''fl^ *^'^ I Me. Clun and 

TiTEEE Tu, r"*^ i "^^T' Me. Shattered 

' I the other oj a \ 

[ Caj^tain, . J 
Double Diligence, A Puritan} 

Constable, . . . . j 
Timothy, The Alderman's Ser-\ 

rant, , . , . j 

Mrs. Whitebroth, The Alder-} ^ ^ 

mans Wife, . . . ) 
Mrs. Mopus, The Astrologer' s\ 

Wife, .... I 
Mrs. Double Diligence, The) 

Constable's Wife, . . \ 

Beatrice, The Alderman' s\ 

Daughter, . . , . j 
Cis, The Alderman's Maid, . 



> The Scene — 
LONDON. 



THE CHEATS. 



Act l — Scene i. 
Enter Bilboe a7id Titere Tu, as meeting. 

T. T. HoH : Major 1 Quilms Hector, etcetera ? 

Bil. Why, faith, the old trade still — here, and 
there, and everj^^vhere. But how now, captain % 
— Latin ! Latin ! — Send us fair weather ! From small 
beer and ends of Latin, deliver me. 

T. T. Troth, I rise with as little of 't this morning 
as the rest of my neighbours ; and yet once to-day, 
'twas a measuring cast whether I had English enough 
to carry me to bed. 

Eil. For why, my Man o' Memphis % New adven- 
tures ? 

f. T. Small game. However, 'tis better than idle- 
ness. A man would pick straws rather than not 
keep his hand in use. Anything, good Major, in an 
honest way. 

Bil. Thou'rt in the right, boy. But, hark ye ! did 
ye bite % 

T. T. Yes ; and I've struck him. 

Bil. A squire ? Another squire ? 

T. T. He may be one in time ; but for present he 
is only a small bachelor of the law, new come to 
town to learn breeding. 

Bil. I'll say this — and a fig for thee — he has as 
hopeful a tutor as man need have rak'd hell for. 

T. T. Mean you me, sir, or Eunter the civilian, 
to whose care his father by his last will committed 
him? 

Bil Eunter? Hah! hah! 



18 THE CHEATS. 

T. T. Why, he thinks himself a learned man ; and 
'tis some sign that others are of the same opinion. I 
.can assure you, he missed the Chancellorship of Dun- 
stable as narrowly as ever any man that went without 
it. 

Bil. Nay, nay, nay ! the gentleman will be well 
bred, there's no doubt of 't. But what's the business 1 

T. T. Compositions, Major, compositions ; a small 
collation to save the effusion of Christian blood. 
That thou hadst seen him while the Prudential and 
my Second were discoursing the business ! He looked 
so like a sick horse, he would neither eat nor drink 
before he knew whether he should live or die ; but as 
soon as the sum was agreed, and we had shaken 
hands upon 't — Whip, says Jethro ! — he was got 
drunk ere I could wet my whistle. 

Bil. But are the pence numbered 1 Do they cry 
chink in thy pocket ? How many yellow boys, 
rogue 1 how many yellow boys ? 

T. T. Why, faith, Major, none ; but we are to take 
a .£100 together, which will be all one. 

Bil. But who must lay it do^vn, Captain ? who 
must lay it down ? 

T. T. T have a small broker that for £40 or £50 
has undertaken to procure it. 

Bil. That may do well ; but hark you ! where does 
your horse stand % I hear of a purchase, and must 
out to-night. 

T. T. No more, good Major; no more of that 
doleful tune ; the very remembrance of 't puts me 
into a cold sweat. 

Bil. 'Twas a pretty nag — thou hast not sold him % 

T. T. Would 'twere no worse. 

Bil. He is not stol'n 1 No rogues among ourselves, 
I hope? 

T. T. Neither. 

Bil. Or is he dead ? 

T. T. In law, I think he be. I was t'other night 
upon the randan, and who should I meet with but 
our old gang, some of St. Nicholas' clerks ? Pad was 



THE CHEATS. 19 

the word, the booty set by the Chamberlain ; we took 
it, and shar'd it, but, coining home, were all snap'd 
by a hue and cry for another business, wherein I was 
not concerned ; which Mr. Constable perceiving, and 
imagining me as very a rogue as the rest, and that I 
would be glad to escape upon any terms, he takes me 
aside and tells me, that though I was not in this, 
yet there were others wherein I had been ; and there- 
fore (because I looked like a civil gentleman, merely 
drawn in by ill company) if I would give him my 
horse he would let me escape. You may easily 
believe he did not speak to a deaf man, or one that 
had no mind to understand him. I closed with him, 
got me to my company, made them dead drunk, and 
when they were fast asleep fairly march'd off. 

Bil. That is to say, ran away. 

T. T. And a good shift too. You are put to none 
of these hazards. Major. You lie as safe in the con- 
stable's house as a thief in a mill, or (to use a more 
familiar expression) some of our friends in Newgate. 

Bil. Yes, I could have better accommodations 
abroad ; but he is my loving friend. 

T. T. His wife, you mean. 

Bil. Why, — she's a good girl. And now you talk of 
these trumperies, what's become of your small cocka- 
trice, the astrologer Mopus his wife ? 

T. T. I ha'n't seen her since my last mischance ; I 
must ev'n to her for new riggings. I hope her hus- 
band has had a good term of 't. I'd live like a prince 
if I could perform the tenth part of what his bills 
promise. But see, Major ! yonder's your pinnace 
sailing by — 

Enter Double Diligence and Ms loife. 

Ah ! how she booms ! Prithee, hail her, man. Would 
I had the furling of her mainsail ! 

Bil. Landlord, well met ! How now, landlady ? 
This is better than wish. I must give you a barrel 
of oysters and a bottle or two of wine ere we part, 
honest landlord. [BiLBOE hugs him. 



20 THE CHEATS. 

B. D. Oh, — good Major, — another time; we are 
going to exercise now. 

Bil. But, dear landlord Captain, advance, and 

know this gentleman, my friend and landlord ; he is 
the honestest fellow, and the best natured thing 

J). D. Thank you, good Major, I have always your 
good word. 

Mrs. D. Ay, indeed, husband, that you have ; and 
more behind your back than ever I told you of 

[T. T. comes up and salutes D. D. 

T. T. Worthy sir, your servant's humble servant. 

D. D. Alas, good Captain ! — Indeed and truly, — 
sweet sir, — the Major and I are old friends. 

T. T. And may you long continue so. 

D. D. I thank you, sir. Come, my joy, shall us walk 1 
I should be loth to have Mr. Alderman there before us. 

Mrs. D. Ay, my dear, I stay for thee. 

[Exit D. D. 

Bil. But hark you, hussy — 

[He whispers lier hack. 
Where shall you and I exercise ? Can't you drop 
him, or give him the slip for an hour or two ] 

Mrs. D. Oh, no. We are to be at the Repetition at 
Mr. Alderman's — 'tis Friday night. But I shall see 
you anon. Farewell, good Major. Your servant, sir. 

[Exit. 

T. T. Your servant, lady. 

Bil. Captain, prithee let's meet to-morrow, in the 
afternoon, at Mother Formal's, the midwife's, and 
bring your small harlotry with you. We'll be merry. 

T. T. A match — a match ! [Exeunt. 



Scene ii. 

Entei' Jolly and Afterwit. 

Aft. You are so wise ! I have observ'd, this world 
Dwells most abroad ; seldom or ne'er at home. 
Most men can counsel others ; few themselves. 



THE CHEATS. 21 

Jol. Hah ! sentences. There's somewhat troubles 
you ! 
AVhat is 't % And can you call me friend, and yet 
Not let me bear my part ? Friends should be one ; 
Breath, hope, fear, will, and nill the same, in common. 

Aft. Why, what were you the better if you knew 1 
You cannot give me ease. 

Jol. However, try ! 
A handsome fellow, and a fair estate, 
And wit at will ! — thou mayest command the town. 
Leave off this fooling. 

Aft. I'm beholden to you. 
Can you, with all your wisdom, tell me now 
Where this shoe wrings me ? 

Jol. No. 

Aft. Then pray believe 
I know ; and if you are my friend, forbear 
A further scrutiny. 

Jol. My life, in love ! 
Not past that boy's disease — that troublesome itch ? 
Come ; we'll be jovial, and divert the humour. 

Aft. Suppose I were, is not the world the same ? 
Love is the bond of nature ; and without it 
The universe were but a besom unbound — 
Sand without lime. 

Jol. I need no further symptoms 
To make the crisis. Hah ! And you believe 
This dainty philosophical poultice 
Will work the cure 1 If I have any skill. 
There were a better remedy. 

Aft. For shame, 
Thou infidel to all that's good or lovely ! 
May'st thou die in thy heresy, and ne'er know 
What a good woman means, unless, perhaps. 
For thy conversion. 

Jol. This was intended 
For a small curse. But I must thank my friend. 
And if he were not turn'd bigot, I think 
Might satisfy him. You're in love, forsooth ! 
All in good time. But have you not yet consider'd 



22 THE CHEATS. 

What 'tis 1 How much more misery beyond it 
Than on this side of 't 1 You may fancy castles, 
And forty I know not what's ; but they're of snow ; 
Come one good show'r, and farewell my fine gewgaw. 

Aft. Thou art a strange fellow. What dost think 
of those 
Have gone before us, and commend it too 1 

Jol. One woodcock makes no winter. But, I pray, 
What are the persons ? Are they not concern'd ? 
These married men are like boys in the water. 
Ask 'um how 't goes : Oh ! wonderous hot, they cry, 
When yet their teeth chatter for very cold. 
If you must love, love on ; but go no further. 
Women enjoy 'd, like rivers in the sea. 
Lose both their taste and name. Suppose 'um Junoes 
In the pursuit, they're clouds in the enjoyment. 

Aft. Thou'rt like the fox, that, having lost his tail, 
Would fain persuade the rest to mak 't a fashion. 
Prithee give over. 

Jol. Troth I've scarce begun. 
Suppose her handsome, she's a honey-pot 
I' th' sun ; if otherwise, you'll ne'er endure her : 
If honest, insolent, though ne'er so ugly : 
She thinks you are beholden to her for't ; 
And yet, who knows how long she may be so. 
Is she the map of modesty % perhaps 
'Tis but your own opinion ; love is blind. 
There's many pass for such, whose husbands yet 
Could, if they durst, tell you another tale. 
Is she a housewife 1 can she make a band 1 
Order a dairy ? cure a broken shin 1 
Examine your accounts, and at year's end 
Pray tell me what you've saved. Is she highborn 1 
Twenty to one she's proud, and quickly scorns you. 
What are you better for those doughty acts 
My lord her great-great-grandfather perform 'd 
The Lord knows where % or t'ave her portion paid you 
In genealogies, gilt spurs, and cantons 1 * 

Aft. Come — ^I can hold no longer. Have you done 1 
* A term in heraldry. 



1 



A 



THE CHEATS. 23 

Jol. With your good patience, a word. Consider, 
'Tis like a battle, to be fought but once ; 
And therefore, it must be so, be sure 
She be your equal, and if possible virtuous — 
At least not tainted with her mother's vices. 
And now, if after this thou dar'st be wiving, 
Th'art a bold fellow ; and that's all I'll say. 
Heav'n keep thee yet within the power of hellebore. 

Aft Prithee be n't so severe. Thou art my friend, 
And I'll deal plainly with thee. That estate 
Which you believe so fair (and wer't not for 
My father's debts, and some small slips of mine. 
Might have look't somewhat like it) is at present 
At that low ebb, that if I don't look to 't 
In time, it will be past recovery. 
Come ; the red petticoat must piece up all. 

Jol. 'T 'as a half face of reason. As you say. 
Desperate causes must have desperate cures. 
But what is he has got this hank upon 't 1 

Aft. Did you ne'er hear of Alderman Whitebroth 1 

Jol. Ay, there's a Jew indeed ! I'll tell thee what — 
He has a daughter ; thou shalt have her too, 
Tho' it be but to be reveng'd of him. 

Aft. There spake my friend. Oh ! but her father 

Jol. What] 

Aft. Will never give consent. 

Jol. To chuse — she'll make 
The better wife, to justify her folly. 

Aft. Prithee be serious. 

Jol. Good faith, I am ; 
And if thou hast her not, one way or other, 
I'll be thy bondman. We'll about it straight. 

\Exeunt. 

Scene hi. 

Enter Mopus, solus, with a hook, etc. 

Mop. Saturn and Jupiter come to a trine in Taurus 
and Capricorn. Huh ! We shall have 



24 THE CHEATS. 

come to town, and their wives ne'er miss 'em in the 
country. Next month they all meet in the house of 
Mercury, he being lord thereof and significator of 
speech : it may intend advocates, cryers of courts, 

splitters of causes, oyster wives, and broom-men 

Hold ! — Saturn — (nothing but this malevolent planet) 
in the sign Virgo, in conjunction with Venus in her de- 
triment. Beware, women, of green gowns : great men, 
of stone and cholic ; and costermongers, of rotten 
pippins. Again, pars tmiurce, coupled with the Ca- 
tabibason — that is to say, the Dragon's Tail — huh, 
huh — children shall be subject to convulsion fits, 
young wenches to the falling evil, and old women 
to cough out their teeth. — [He nmkes a jpause.'] — 
But all this is no money. Many an honest man has 
but one house, and maintains his family very well ; 
but, such an unlucky rogue, the whole twelve will 
hardly pay my rent. Now, a pox take these citi- 
zens, and then a man might get some money by 'um. 
They are so hidebound, there's no living by 'um ; 
so clunch-fisted, a man would swear the gout were 
got out of their feet into their hands ; 'tis death to 
'um to pluck 'um out of their pockets. I am sure my 
bills bid as high as the proudest — they cure all diseases, 
and resolve all astrological questions, and they'll 
hardly quit cost for pasting 'um up. Here dwells an 
astrological physician, reads one ; And there let him 
till I trouble him, answers another. His Majesty's 
most excellent operator, says one ; Yes, upon post, 
quoth another. And thus you see how an artist is 
valued. O ignorance ! ignorance ! well may'st thou be 
mother of devotion ; but I am sure thou art the step- 
dame of art. If it were not for the good women, with 
their groats and their vinegar bottles, and now and then 
a young wench to enquire of her sweetheart, I might 
e'en hang myself ; nay (which were worse), my wife 
would cry her trade were the better o' th' two. But 
husht ! I hear somebody coming. Ten to one but 'tis 
my young Squire, with his mercer's wife to have her 
fortune read — I could with less trouble and more cer- 



THE CHEATS. 25 

tainty have told her husband's. I hear 'um — husht ! — 
my wife understood their meaning, and might have 
put *um together without troubling of me. 

Enter Mrs. Mopus. 

Oh ! is it you ? How goes all causes ] 

Mrs. Mop. But ill enough, I'm sure. I wonder what 
I'm the better for a husband in you. Here you sit 
moping and moping all day upon a book, and at night 
you are as sleepy as a gib'd cat. 

Mop. Oh ho ! I'm in thy debt, but thou shalt be 
paid it altogether. Is it not better to receive £100 at 
one payment than to dribble 't shilling and shilling ? 

3Irs. Mop. But you'd be loth, though, if your wife 
had an occasion, that she should borrow, though 'twere 
but sixpence. 

Mop. Thou sayest right ; but I dare trust thee fur- 
ther. Prithee go in and look after the house ; we 
shall have some or other come popping in presently. 

Mrs. Mop. To mighty purpose ! 'Tis well you get 
so much. Methinks trading is grown extreme dead. 
Time was when your honest citizens' wives, and no 
ordinary madams, and their gallants would come and 
be merry here ; but now 

Mop. A little patience, good wife ; 't 'as been a long 
vexation the gentry are not come to town yet. And 
yet we have some doings, too. 

Mrs. Mop. Yes ; a company of fribbles, enough to 
discredit any honest house in the world. No ; I'd have 
you know, I am for none of your skip -jacks. No. 
Give me your persons of quality; there's somewhat 
got by them. Besides, a woman need not be ashamed 
to sit jig by joul with the best of the parish ; and who 
dare say black is her eye *? • 

Mop. Prithee be quiet. I expected a young squire 
and his mistress ; but I believe she could not get out, 
her husband is so jealous of her. 

Mrs. Mop. Now, out upon her ; could she not have 
took another woman with her % He has been a good 
one himself, I warrant you, that shall offer to sus- 



26 THE CHEATS. 

pect two women together. Marry hang these jealous- 
headed coxcombs, these ass-cuckolds, that believe their 
ears to be horns ; and such have you been in your time 
too — that you have. 

Mop. AVell, well ! go in — all shall be mended. 
Prithee, in ! 

Mrs. Mo;p. No, indeed, I don't intend it ; I must 
have some money first. Do you think I can go always 
in one gown % Pray don't mistake yourself. Besides, 
I must buy the child a new coat ; and Mr. Scruple 
expects I should carry him something for his pains 
amongst us. Indeed, husband, he is a precious able 
man. 

Mop. Yes, he is able — able to speak more with 
ease than another man can hear with patience. Away, 
you fool ! 

Mrs. Mop. Nay, good husband ; how do you think 
a woman can love you, if you will not let her do as 
the rest of her neighbours 1 I warrant you for them, 
not one of them mist the meeting to-day ; and I hope 
you have found that they are not the worst customers 
we have. Marry come up here — 

[She strikes the hook out of his Jiand. 
'Tis a fine thing that a woman can have no money 
but what she must ask her husband for; and then, 
too, to have all this clutter about it. Give me some 
money, or I'll make my complaint to Mr. Scruple. 

Mop. Be quiet, and thou shalt have anythingv I 
must e'en stop her mouth to be rid of her. 

[This and the next aside. 
If once she set up her clack, the cataracts of Nile are 
but still music to 't. Come, we'll in, and see what 
may be done. [Exeunt. 

Scene iv. 

Enter Eunter and Tyro. 

JRu. Indeed, your father was my old acquaintance 
and very good friend. Ah ! how it tickles my lungs 



THE CHEATS. 27 

to think how many mad frolics we have had at 
robbing of orchards and stealing pudding - pies. I 
hope I may take it for granted that you visited the 
University 1 Pray, which of 'um, and what College 1 

Ty. Gotam College, sir ; the University of Eumford. 

Ru. My fellow-collegiate ! You and I must be ac- 
quainted. A graduate, I hope, sir ? 

Ty. Yes, sir, a small one ; I went out bachelor last 
horse fair. 

Ru. And I doctor, in the throng. We must be 
better acquainted. You're come up to study 1 

Ty. My mother would have it so. 

Ru. Then let me advise you. Study both laws, but 
chiefly the civil : you would not think what advan- 
tage 'tis to be a general man. 

Ty. I shall follow your directions, sir. 

Ru. Then, when you come to practice, you must 
get you a good brass towel and a steel countenance, 
and ever carry so much patience as not to be dis- 
couraged at anything; for I am to tell you a great 
truth, that our profession rots at the wrong end — the 
young ones die, and the old ones Kve. But how, I 
pray % Even like bawds and medlars, never ripe till 
rotten ; that is to say, seldom or never get money till 
they are past the use of 't. And then, perhaps, what 
with a little favour and a great deal of money, they 
may chance to arrive at last to the height of sleeping 
out a cause. 

Ty. I thank you, sir ; and I think I shall be able to 
remember it. 

Ru. Then you must ever be obsequious to great 
men ; not that you expect any good from 'um, but, 
as the Chineses worship the devil, that they do you 
no hurt. Then be sure to keep your chamber ; it will 
keep you. I kept mine many a long year, and nothing 
came ; but at last, thanks to my stars and these good 
times, it came to the purpose. 

Ty. I know this to be true ; for my mother would 
be continually preaching it to my father. 

Ru. Then you must never examine your cause. 



28 THE CHEATS. 

whether it be good or bad. If it be good, and of no 
great concernment, it will carry itself ; if bad, there's 
your master-piece to help it out. Every fool can 
manage a good cause ; but he's your man can set the 
nose to which side he pleases, and make something 
out of nothing. 

Ty. I hope I shall have the grace to put it in 
practice ; and wish my father were alive, to thank you. 

Ru. Then, if at any time you find you have the 
worst end of the staff, leave off your cause and fall 
upon the person of your adversary ; put it boldly and 
enough of't, and somewhat must stick; no matter 
how true or false, it begets a prejudice to a person, 
and many times forejudges the cause. For example, 
now, to give you an instance in a gentleman, a friend 
of mine, a great master of this way of pleading : A 
gentleman, with a long comely beard, demurs to his 
client's bill ; my friend takes him up at first hop, 
and demurs to his beard ; calls it a vow-beard, and 
that he had made an oath not to cut it till the King 
came in ; and hark you, had he had twenty argu- 
ments, he might have better spared the other nineteen 
than that one. I could tell you of as good a one of 
my own, and upon as great a person as any tliis day 
in Europe — ah ! how I firk't him up, with — a chip of 
the old block, and twenty as good — but enough of 
this now. The thing is sufficiently known, and it ill 
becomes a man to set out his own virtues. But try this, 
and do it boldly, and never doubt of clients. A modest 
lawyer ! — A silent woman ! — A paradox in nature. 

'Ty. I can but thank you still, sir. 

Ru. I had almost forgot one thing, and no way 
inferior to any of the rest. If you find any commotion 
in the state, be sure to strike in with the first. If you 
get nothing — cantabit vacuus — ^you'll pass in the crowd ; 
if you do, you'll have money enough to purchase your 
pardon, and perhaps, too, get in to be some great man's 
advocate. Chew the cud upon this for the present, 
and as I find you grooving up to 't, I shall instruct you 
further. [Exeunt 



THE CHEATS. 29 



Scene v. 

Entei' Whitebroth (coughing), Mrs. Whitebroth, 
Beatrice, Cis, and Timothy, laden with books. 

Wh. I do profess, this Mr. Scruple is a singular man. 

Mrs. Wh. Ay, indeed is he ; I never edified under 
any man like him. But how d'you, my lamb ? how 
d you 1 

Tim. A vengeance over-grown one. I have seen 

many a ram in my time has not been so big by the 

head and the horns. [Aside. 

[Whitebroth covghs all the while. 

Bea. How d'you, sir 1 You don't look well. 

Wli. Nothing but a cold, my child — nothing but a 
cold ! I hope 'twill away again. [He coughs again. 

Mrs. Wh. Cis, Cis ! a stick of licoras, Cis. 

Enter Double Diligence and his Wife. 

Cis. I have some candied ginger, forsooth. 

Mrs. Wh. Here, chick, prithee bite a bit of 't ; 'tis 
the most sovereign thing, next a pepper-posset, as can 
be. 

D. D. Save your good worship ! It fell in an ill 
time. I am afraid it may beget an obstruction of jus- 
tice, by hind'ring your worship's sitting on the bench. 

Wh. How d'you, neighbours both ? How d'you % 
You're welcome — [coughs] — I am afraid I sat a little 
too long in the cold — [again]. Come, neighbour Dili- 
gence ! you and I'll walk in, and leave the women to 
entertain Mr. Scruple. 

D. D. I wait upon your worsliip. 

[Exeunt Whitebroth and Double Diligenck 

Mrs. Wh. Timothy ! 

Tim. Madam? 

Mrs. Wh. Quickly, good Timothy, quickly — run in 
and get the towels. After, good Cis, after him ; and 
see they be through warm. 

[Exeunt Timothy and Cis. 



30 THE CHEATS. 

Enter Scruple. 

Oh, Mr. Scruple, Mr. Scruple ! Alas, good man, how 
he sweats ! Tim ! Tim ! Tim ! A towel, Tim, a 
towel — quick, quick, quick ! 

Enter Tim. 

Tim. Here, forsooth. 

Mrs. D. Now, blessing o' your heart, good Mr. 
Scruple ; you have taken a great deal of pains to-day. 

Tim. Or his lungs have, which is all one. [Aside. 

Mrs. Wh. Truly, and indeed, a great pains-taker. 
Come, Mr. Scruple, you have stood long to-day ; pray 
sit down — [they pull him down into a low chair and 
neb him] — we must rule you here. Will you have 
a candle, sir 1 Alas, poor man ! how wet the collar 
of his shirt is ! Feel, Diligence ; I prithee feel. 

Mrs. D. Now, beshrew me, but 't 'as work'd quite 
through his doublet, coat, cloak, and all. 

Sc. Hum, I am refreshed ; yea, in good sooth, I 
am. 

Mrs. Wh. Will you have a lemon-posset, sir ? 

Sc. I fear me it is too cold. 

Mrs. Wh. Will you go to bed, sir ? or have a fresh 
shirt ? How do you, sir 1 

Tim. Troth, very ill upon a text. 

Sc. I am well eno\;gh ; only a qualm — a qualm. 

Mrs. Wh. What say you to your collar of S'S, 
then? 

Sc. That would not be amiss — there's no false Latin 
in 't. 

Mrs. Wh. Quickly, Tim, quickly ! — a pint of sack, 
a quart of cider, and a handful or two of sugar ; and 
put 'um into the great bowl. Eun, Timothy, run ! 
Dear child, do thou help him. 

Tim. Call you me this his collar of S'S % — \aside^ — 
You shall have it presently. 

\Exeunt Timothy and Beatrice. 

Mrs. D. I am afraid you are not well, sir. 

Sc. Yes ; I am so so. You would not think how 't 



THE CHEATS. 31 

has recover'd me. One would hardly believe what a 
rejoicing to my spirit it is to see you thus eager and, as 
it were, hungry for your food. Ah ! be the same still. 
You cannot lay out yourselves, nor I myself, forth 
enough, in these ways. Pray mark it. We cannot 
lay out ourselves forth enough, one to another. These 
often duties put us into a spiritual posture of war. 
Ah ! it is best fighting together. Ah ! what a 
precious thing it is when we are concern'd together, 
and — ah ! — ah ! as a man may say, wrap't up in one 
common cause and interest. Ah ! good sisterly 
women, consider it, and lay it upon your hearts. But 
how does Mr. Alderman ? Methought I heard him 
cough ere while. How does he 1 

[The women ansiver him in a long-draivn sigh]. Hui ! 

Mrs. TFh. Now, indeed, I think he sat too long in 
the cold. He has gotten a heavy cough of 't. 

Sc. To see the frailty of man's nature ! How weary 
of every thing that is good ! — how irksome it is unto 
us ! I dare undertake he should have sat at a lewd 
stage-play a whole afternoon — nay, with his hat off 
too — and — ah, been ne'er the worse. 

Mrs. JVh. But are these stage-plays such lewd 
things as you make them ? 

Sc. Why, truly, you are my bosom-sisters, and I 
may speak truth to you. Nay, they are not; for 
you may find good moral things in them — vice 
deprest, virtue encourag'd, and the like. However, 
, we have thought fit to rail at 'um, for fear the people 
should set their hearts upon 'um, and consequently 
undo us. I have often lectured at 'um in a morning, 
and in the afternoon stol'n behind a pillar to hear 'um. 

Enter Tim. 

But see, here comes Timothy. — \He starts.l — A vaunt ! 
This bowl is scandalous — it looketh like a wassail. — 
[Tim offers to go out.] — Nay, hold, Timothy ! Though the 
bowl be scandalous, 'tis pity the good creature should be 
spoil'd. Pray, next time, let me have the great tankard ; 
I am of opinion, too, it holds more. — [He drinks.] — The 



32 THE CHEATS. 

Casuists speak comfortably in this point. A man may 
eat and drink abundantly without any necessity, but 
merely for his pleasure. Nay, he may usque ad vomi- 
tmn ingurgitare, provided always he do not prejudice 
his health thereby: because it is allowable in the 
natural appetite to be taken up with those actions that 
are proper thereunto. We must deny ourselves ; we 
may not deny the creature. Pray observe it. I say, 
we may not deny the creature ; it being given us not 
for our sustentation only, but contentation also. 
Timothy ! Prithee once more, good Timothy. 

2'im. Here, sir. [Scruple drinks again. 

Mrs. Wh. Now, much good may it do your heart, 
good Mr. Scruple. 

Mrs. D. Indeed he deserves a good thing, he makes 
so much of it when he has it. 

Sc. This is napping gear, and well encourag'd. But, 
pray, no more of this bowl ; pray no more of 't. For 
this time it may pass. Now, trust me, it has such a 
pleasant farewell, it invites a man to drink often of it. 
Timothy ! 

Tim. Here, sir ! [Scruple drinks again. 

Sc. I do assure you, special stuff, and too good for 
the wicked ; it may strengthen them in their enor- 
mities. But come ; let's go visit Mr. Alderman. 
Timothy, is all out 1 

Tim. Yes, sir — not a drop left. 

Sc. Then pray speak to Euth to dress up the great 
tankard, and bring it in to Mr. Alderman's chamber. 

Tim. It shall be done, sir. [Exeunt 



Act il — Scene i. 

Enter Timothy, solus. 

Tim. Huh ! he grows worse and worse. I have 
been with the doctor, and he'll be here presently. 
Precious Mr. Scruple is departed, but so like a dog 



THE CHEATS. 33 

outlaw'd, that unless the devil owes me a spite, I may 
be troubled with a mourning cloak. I am sure I 
liave deserved it. I am the general officer of this 
house, like my mistress's silver sack -posset-bason — 
screw a handle to 't, and 'tis her bed-pan ; put a cover 
to that, her warming-pan ; take off both, it serves to 
wash her hands in the morning, and for a sack-posset 
at supper. In the stable I am groom ; in the garden 
gard'ner; at the market, caterer; in the cellar, butler; 
upon all visits, her gentleman usher; and above 
stairs, his valet de chambre. 

Enter Mopus. 

My noble doctor ! you're a man of your word. 

JIo}). How does your master ? 

I'im. Alack, sir ! I thought you could have told 
that by the stars. I have heard say, learned men 
know everything. 

Mop. Yes ! I could have erected a Scheme, but I 
thought it unnecessary. How does he take his rest 1 

Tim. But ill ; and complains of heats and gripings. 

Mop. I'll set him right again — unless the stars 

Tm. What, good sir 1 

Mop. Have pre-decreed the contrary ; and if so, we 
must submit. Will you let your mistress know I am 
here 1 

Tim. I shall, sir. [Exit Timothy. 

Mop. So — there's half the disease ; I shall easily 
pick the rest out of the good woman. If all things hit 
right, this alderman may prove a good milch-cow. 

Enter Mrs. Whitebroth. 

Madam I your humble servant. 

Mrs. Wh. You're welcome, sir. Nay, what d'you 
mean % Pray, sir ! Indeed there's nobody expects it. 
Pray be pleas'd, I can assure you, no — in truth I do 
not — pray, sir ! 

[She does this to rnake MoPUS put on his hat. 
Mop. — your servant. Have you sav'd the Alder- 
man's water, as I ordered "l 
C 



34 THE CHEATS. 

Enter Cis and Timothy. 

Mrs. Wh. Yes, sir ! Cis, Cis ! thy master's state. 

Cis. ! Tim, Tim ! 'twas in the silver tankard, and 
the cat overthrew it. 

[This and the next to he spoke aside. 

Tim. There stands some dead ale upon the table, 
put that i' the urinal : he'll tell as much by one as 
t'other. [Exeunt Timothy and Cis. 

Moj). A most fortunate face — I never met with 
more lucky lines. You'll live to bury the Alderman 
— and — shall marry — ^let me see — a lord. 

Mrs. Wh. Indeed, sir? I believe you can tell. 

Mop. Nay, I am certain of it. Hereafter I may 
chance to tell you his name ; but for the present, be 
sure he is a viscount at least. 

Mrs. Wh. This — [she gives him money'] — and my 
thanks. A viscountess ! I'll promise you, I'll take it no 
longer as I have done. 

Enter Cis with an urinal. 

Mop. Oh ! let me see 't. High-colour' d — his blood's 
inflam'd. Feverish — feverish. 

[At every stop he shakes the urinal. 

Mrs. Wh. Indeed, sir, he bums like fire. 

Mop. Sick — sick — sick ! He cannot rest. 

Mrs. Wh. Ay, indeed ! You are as right. 

Mop. Sometimes up, and sometimes down. 

Mrs. Wh. Truly, he has not been out of his bed 
since he first took his cold till just now. 

Mop. Huh — a cold ! — [Aside.] — Pains in his limbs, 
coughing, and now and then wind. This froth and 
feather in the water is a certain token. 

Mrs. Wh. Now, bless me, sir ! how is 't possible you 
should hit things so right 1 

Mop. How do you hit your mouth in the dark ? 
One's as easy as t'other — that is to say, to a man of 
art. I could tell you a thousand things ; but time is 
precious. May I not see the Alderman 1 

Mrs. Wh. 0, by all means. I hear him coming. 



THE CHEATS. 35 



Enter Whitebroth. 

O, my dear, here's a gentleman has told me all your 
distemper, as right. [Whitebroth cmtghs. 

Wh. And what does he think of it ? 

Mop. Pray, bend your wrist, sir. — [He feels his 
imlse.^ — All will do well again. A purge and a 
vomit — a purge and a vomit. Gi' me a pen and ink. 

[He writes. 

Mrs. Wh. Would not some Parma Citty do him 
good 1 Truly, I would be loth he should want any- 
thing. 

Mop. You do well. Let me see — what says the 
College ? Sperma cceti, confedio quoidarti — pox on't, I 
have forgot the rest. Sperma cceti ! — sperma cox comb. 
They're a company of quacking fools. 'Tis Parmacitty, 
and takes its name from the city of Parma. Hang this 
foisting — I'll trust ne'er a doctor of them all. — [He 
tears the paper.] — Have a little patience, madam, and 
I'll send you a preparation of my own. In the mean 
time, your servant. I am staid for at present. 

[Exit. 

Mrs. Wh. Farewell, good doctor. Come, my heart ! 
rest tliyself within. 

[Exeunt, Whitebroth coughing. 



Scene ii. 
Enter Jolly and Afterwit. 

Jol. And how d'you like her now 1 

Aft. Could I like heav'n ] 
Prithee, forbear these questions. 

Jol And much good may she da thee. Thou sha't 
have her. I've laid the plot, and I am sure 'twill take. 

Aft. As how, my Jolly 1 

Jol. Not so hasty. I have an odd humour in my 
pocket will strike fair to it. 

[He pulls out a printed bilk 



36 THE CHEATS. 

Aft. What's here 1 A printed bill ! Prithee let's 
hear 't. 

Jol. ' In the name of God, through the light of the 
Son, by the revelation of the Spirit, I cure these 
diseases, perfectly and speedily, without any annoy- 
ance to the body, which commonly happens through 
college bills and apothecaries' medicines, with which 
the devil has deceived the world these many hundred 
of years. 

' The new disease (otherwise called the Great Pox) 
Avith all its appendices, in few days, with herbs that 
I gather in the woods, and gums of trees — agues of 
all sorts, in three fits — gout, whether knotted or 
running, in four or five dressings — dropsy — timpany 
— rickets — spleen — convulsion — yellow and black 
jaundies, stone, strang-ury, and collick, in six hours. 
All kinds of fluxes, most distemj)ers of the head, 
shortness of breath, and ptisick, at first sight. And 
have ever by me a most approved remedy against 
green sickness, barrenness, and fits of the mother.' 

Aft. 'Twas fairly vied. Who bids more V 

Jol. He comes again : 'As also (to let the world see 
how wide of their mark they are like to run that as 
boldly as ignorantly dare adventure on physic with- 
out the knowledge of astrology), I resolve these 
ensuing astrological questions : 

' The sick, whether they shall recover or not ; the 
party absent, whether living or dead. How many 
husbands or children a woman shall have ; whether 
one shall marry the party desir'd, or whom else. 
Whether a woman hath her maidenhead or not, or 
shall be honest after marriage, or her portion well paid. 
If a man be wise or a fool. Whether it be good to 
put on new clothes. If dreams be for good or evil. 
Whether a child be the reputed father's ; or shall be 
fortunate, or not. Ships at sea, whether safe or not. 
Of law-suits, which side shall have the better. And 
generally, all astrological questions whatever. 
' latros latrophihis Mopus, 
' A Servant of God, and Secretary of Nature.' 



THE CHEATS. 37 

Aft. Hah, boys ! if this wo'n't take 'um, the devil 
take 'um. But what are those hard words 1 

Jol. Oh ! a phj^sician, a friend to physicians — 
The only true thing in all his bill. These quacks are 
the best friends physicians have ; they make work for 
'um. What dost think is come into my head ? 

Aft. How is it possible I should know 1 I am no 
(Edipus. 

Jol. Whj, this fellow must be a cheat ; and, I am 
confident, with a little help, would be able to do our 
business. Prithee let's to him. But see, your mis- 
tress ! To her ! 

Enter Beatrice aiid Cis. 

Aft. This is such fortune, I forgive my stars 
All their unkindness. 

Bea. Is this natural 1 Or do you carry set forms 
about you, to be used as occasion shall serve 1 

Aft. Faith, neither. So much excellence must needs 
inform a statue, and make a post rhetorical. 

Bea. Demonstrations ! Why, how now, Mr. After- 
wit ? 

Aft. Just as you see. How d'you like him 1 

Jol. Well said 1 To her again. If I can make no 
sport, I'll mar none. How now, Cis 1 

Cis. The better for your asking, I thank you, sir. 

Jol. Hark you — a word. 

[Jolly and Cis walk aside. 

Aft. So fair, and so unkind ! Sure Nature dotes, 
She twists such contradictions ; or, what's worse, 
Has lost her wits, and would have all like her. 

Bea. Whence this new fury ? 

Aft. Can you read your self 
And ask that question 1 Were you made thus lovely, 
To make me miserable 1 Would you had less 
Divinity or more humanity. 

Bea. Then you're in love, it seems ! or at least would 
Make me believe it. Don't I know, you men 
Speak anything 1 Women are fools, and can't 
For shame but credit it. 



i38 THE CHEATS. 

Aft. You wrong my truth. 
By all that's good ! 

Bea. No more. Admitting yet 
What I can scarce believe, why must you crop 
That flower, which, as it grows, may peradventure 
Look fair and lovely ; but once gather'd, withers *? 
Give me love refined — a love that flames 
Upon itself, not fed with grosser fuel ; 
A love that loves the virtue, not the sex. 

Aft. And such is mine. But fancy not this new 
Philosophy of immaterial flames. 
Hearts may meet hearts, and souls piquere * with 

souls; 
But if they come no nearer than the eyes, 
For want of matter to maintain 'um, die. 

Bea. Be judge yourself Who but the needy pray % 
Once fill your belly, you've no more to say. 

Aft. Yes. To give thanks, and ruminate upon 
Those blessings which grow faster than we reap 'um. 
Come, come, be wise, and trifle not away 
That youth would make an emperor too happy. 
All seek their like, and like the needle, tremble, 
And never settle till it reach that North. 
I'd rather be an owl than phoenix, 
If I must live alone. 

Bea. These morals, sir. 
Might have been better. But since you'll needs 
Make me beHeve you love me, court my father ; 
For notwithstanding the respect I bear you, 
I must declare, I've neither eyes nor ears 
To anything but what he shall direct. 

Jol. You need say no more. Mind what I told you, 
and leave the rest to me. — [He speaks this to CiS.] — 
What ! have you done yet *? A good soldier, now, 

* Or ' pickeer ' — coquette. Literally, to skirmish before a battle 
begins. 

Ye garrison, w^^ some commons and the Scotch horse picquw- 
ing awhile close by the walls on the east, drew off, after they had 
failed in snapping Col. Graye's small regement of hors at Stan- 
wick, with much ado gott into the towne without losse. — Tullie's 
Narrative of the Siege of Carlisle, p. 6. 



THE CHEATS. 39 

would have carry'd the town with half this do. Ha' 
done your grace for shame ; and fall to your meat. 

Aft. Sure my father went to heaven, I'm so unfor- 
tunate. Well, be it as 't will, I love you ; and were I 
to speak seven years, I could but say the same thing. 
Come ! I'll wait on you. [Exeunt. 



Scene hi. 
Enter Scruple and Mrs. Whitebroth. 

Sc. I can't away with it ; unfeignedly, I cannot. 
A man may profess it is lawful — yea, assuredly it is ; 
and therefore, I profess if any of my flock shall so 
much as straggle into his pastures, I shall not only 
turn them out of my fold for rotten sheep, but they 
shall for ever be to me as publicans ; that is to say, as 
the learned have most ingeniously observ'd, Fublicanus, 
quasi publicus cards. 

Mrs. JVh. Why, good Mr. Scruple, a member should 
not be cut off for one failing. 

Sc. Good, me no goods, good Mrs. Whitebroth ; I 
teirthee here, sister of mine, it is a wilful failing— a 
very wilful failing. 

3frs. Wh. For why, I pray % The man is learned — 
I am sure he told me all my husband's distemper be- 
fore he so much as saw him. 

Sc. Told ye ! Ay, there's the point. And I must 
tell you too, he must needs use some unlawful means. 

Mrs. Wli. Alas ! It cannot be. His wdfe, good 
woman, is one of us ; and do you think, if he were 
such, she would ever suffer it 1 

Sc. AVhy, there's the blind. The woman is a sis- 
terly woman, and an often frequenter ; w^hich he 
allows of only to deceive the world, as if he were ! 
Well, well, mark what I say ! — if he has not made some 
secret express contract with Satan, I'll be your teacher 
no longer. If you had ever read Doctor Faustus, this 
would not be so strange to you. 



40 THE CHEATS. 

Mrs. Wh. Now, goodness defend it ! 

Sc. Come, come, 'tis great pity it is not look't into. 
I dare undertake, had this fellow set up in Spain, he 
had been in the Inquisition long ere this. But we, 
the more light we have, the less we see. We are wil- 
fully, stiff-neckedly blind ; indeed we are. 

Mrs. Wh. Be not too rash. Many a good body's 
wrong'd, or many of our brethren and sisters are not 
what they should be. 

Sc. Yes ! that was always the malice of the devil 
and his instruments. But this fellow is a profest re- 
probate. I have read his bills, and spoken with 
several that have been with him, and they tell me he 
has a globe ever standing upon his table, and never 
answers any question propos'd without first turning 
that. And why may not the devil be in that globe, as 
well in the pummel of Paracelsus's sword, and Doctor 
Dee's cristall ? D'you mark me that, gentlewoman % 
Answer me that ! 

Mrs. Wh. Nay, pray, Mr. Scruple, I must go to 
him ; all that he told me was without his globe. I 
mean no hurt. 

Sc. That may be something in the case. Let me 
see, what say the Casuists 1 If anything help you, it 
must be the intention ; and that we are forc'd to make 
use of in many cases, especially such as we cannot 
hinder, and correct the viciousness of the means by 
the purity of the end. For example : if a woman, 
great with child, long for another man besides her 
husband, and this husband will not give consent, in 
this case we say, and so we generally agree, that 
she may follow her natural inclination ; provided 
always she have no intention of sin, but only to 
satisfy her longing; for. Actus non facit rmm, nisi 
mens sit rea. 

Mrs. Wh. Now, blessing on you, good sir ; I always 
thought so. 

Sc. In like manner : if a woman of a godly j^arent- 
age do fall into a holy fornication, not out of lust 
but love, and thereupon prove with child, in such a 



THE CHEATS. 41 

case we say that it may be lawful to procure abor- 
tion ; provided always it be not with intention of 
murder, but only to save life or reputation. Nay, 
further, lest the profession should be scandal'd by it, 
we hold it better to trust Providence, by foreswearing 
the fact, than to fall into the hands of men by con- 
fessing the infirmity of the flesh. And in this, as 
many other things, we agree with some gentlemen 
abroad ; and truly, where we do differ, the diff'erence 
between us is so fine and nice, we can hardly perceive 
it ourselves. There is, as the schoolmen term it, an 
identificadunity of principles common to us both. 
They have their private shrifts ; so we. They call it 
a venial sin "vvith a sister, and in case of necessity 
can forgive a neighbour's wife ; so we. They allow 
regulating by tumults ; so we. And lastly, they 
deny all this in plain words, but grant it in eff'ects ; 
so we.* 

Mrs. Wh. What's this to me? May not I go, 
good Mr. Scruple 1 

Sc. If your intention be right, you may. However, 
for fear of the worst, I will go with you ; I should be 
loth to lose one of the best sheep in my flock for want 
of a little care. Come, Mrs. Whitebroth, I did not 
think to have done so much ; but you have such a 
mnning way with you, such a power upon me, I can 
deny you nothing — indeed I cannot. Come ! we must 
now and then comply with one another's weakness. 

[He leads her off. 

Mrs. Wh. 'Tis a good hearing, sir. I thank you. 

\Exeunt. 

* Who shall decide when doctors disagree, 
And soundest casuists doubt like you and me ? — PoPE. 

What arguments they have to beguile poor, simple, unstable 
souls with, I know not ; but, surely, the practical, casuistical, that 
is the principal, vital part of their religion, savotirs very little of 
spirituality. —South. 

Morality, by her false guardian drawn. 
Chicane in furs, and casuistry in lawn. — Pope. 



42 THE CHEATS. 



Scene iv. 

Enter Bilboe, leading Mrs. Double Diligence ; 
and TiTERE Tu, leadi7ig Mrs. Mopus. 

Bil. Come, gipsy ! how came you to light on this 
house ? 'Tis a rare convenience. 

Mrs. D. Oh ! she's our midwife. 

T. T. And, faith, they are good necessary things, 
and generally tractable before they grow rich. 

Mrs. Mop. How do you know 'l I never met you 
here before. 

T. T. Time enough now. 

Mrs. D. But pray, Major, is this gentleman married 1 

Bil. Hang him, rogue — every man's boots serve 
his turn. 

T. T. And better so than going barefoot. I am 
not married, sweet lady, but a lover still. 

Mrs. D. A pretty gentleman ! 

Mrs. Mop. He was, you would have said, had you 
known him when I knew him first ; but now 

T. T. As good as ever, my girl ! Dear Mopus ! 

[He hugs her. 

Mrs. Mop. Away, Captain ! You do so mousle one ! 

Bil. Nay, have a care of him. I say no more. 

Mrs. Mop. Marry ! I hope you are not in earnest. 

T. T. And thou hast no more wit than to believe 
him. As sound as a bell, wench ; as sound as a bell. 

[He capers. 

Mrs, Mop. Indeed, Captain, I hope the best. But 
sure there's somewhat in 't — he does not fine up himself, 
as he was wont. 

T. T. I seldom regard fashions ; anything serves 
me. Drape de berry in the summer keeps out the heat, 
and stuff in the winter lets it in. I must confess, I 
have three or four as rich suits for Flanders lace, 
gimp, and embroidery, as any in the town. 

Mrs. Mop. But where are they, good Captain, where 
are they 1 



THE CHEATS. 43 

T. T. Why, faith, I have had 'um all in my head 
this twelvemonth, but could never yet get one of them 
upon my back. 

Mrs. Mop. Troth, Captain, 'twould not be amiss at 
this time if you open'd your head and took one of 
'um out. 

T. T. The jade's too hard for me. Hark you ! 

\He picks her pocket. 

Mrs. Mop. 0, good Captain ! It must buy the child 
a new coat. 

T. T. Hang him, brat ! one of thy old petticoats 
will serve. Bestow money upon puppy-dogs ! 

Mrs. Mop. You always serve me thus. Pray, Cap- 
tain ! Give me some of 't again. 

[He leads her aside, and whispers. 

T. T. Not a cross, by this good light. D'you hear 
me? 

Bil. And must thy Major have no hatchments? 
Prithee, disburse, disburse ! Dear landlady ! 

[He hugs her. 

Mrs. D. Indeed I have no money. One would think 
your meat, drink, lodging, washing, and wringing were 
worth somewhat. 

Bil. Irish beef, by this good Tilbury — nothing but 
sheep's heads and Irish beef 

Mrs. D. 'Tis but too good for you, unless you were 
more thankful. Many an honest gentleman would 
be glad of your orts.* 

Bil. Prithee, my best landlady, let the small gem 
or the superfluous petticoat march. 

Mrs. D. I will not always endure this ! For once 

But shall we be merry then ? 

[She plucks out a ^nece wrapt up. 

Bil. As merry as thou wilt, my joe. Hang pinch- 
ing ! we'll never pine ourselves, though our heirs 
smart for 't. 

Mrs. D. Here, Major, here's an old Elizabeth has 
not seen light these seven years. 

Bil. And ev'n let her go. She has been prisoner 
* Leavings. 



44 THE CHEATS. 

long enough, of all conscience. Come, Captain, let's 
be merry ! 

T. T. By this hand, 'tis true. — [SpeoMng to Mrs. 
Mopus] — I love thee above all flesh alive. Fear 
nothing ! All's well, and as right as my leg. 

Bil. And that's crooked, to my knowledge. 

Mrs. Mop. Nay, good sir ; you do but jest ! 

T. T. Hang him — hang him ! I have said enough. 
And now I'm for you. Be true^ cuckolds ; he true, he 
true, etc. \He sings. 

Mrs. Mop. Hoop holyday ! That's old. 

T. T. You are for new faces too 1 Pray, Major, 
will you oblige this lady ? 

Bil Who, I ? With all my heart. But I've got 
so strange a cold, and drunk so much French wine of 
late, that, by this old companion of my side, 'twill be 
but once remov'd from howling. 

Mrs. D. However ; pray venture ! I never knew a 
good voice without an excuse. Pray, try ! 

Bil. My landlady might command me anything. 
But I'm so out of tune. Ta, — la, la, la, la. Hang 't ! 

T. T. Let him alone, and you won't be rid of him. 
He's like the blind beggars of Bolonia ; a man must 
give 'um a halfpenny to sing, and twopence to hold 
their tongues. 

BiLBOE Sings. 

I. 

Come, give the wench that is mellow. 
And a pox take all fools that are yeUow ; 

'Tis the horn, the horn. 

The advancing of the horn. 
Dubs a cuckold an alderman's fellow. 

II. 

Let no man disorder his rest 

By believing bull's feathers in 's crest ; 

When you've said what you can, 

A cuckold is a man. 
Or most of our fathers were beasts. 



THE CHEATS. 45 

III. 

Then let us sing, At it, and at it ; 

And let ev'ry one catch that can catch it ; 

All opinions agree 

In one of these three — 
The horn, the pot, or the placket. 

Bil La, you now ! Did not I tell you as much ? 
I'll have my pipes clear'd against we meet next. 

Mrs. D. But when shall that be 1 

Bil. When you will ; provide it be for all night, and 
out of town. 

Mrs. D. That's impossible ! 

Bil. Not at all. You may leave word, you are gone 
to a woman's labour. 

Mrs. D. Hah ! hah ! But her husband 

Bil. What? 

Mrs. D. Will discover the contrary. 

Mrs. Mop. Puh ! puh ! Never let that trouble you. 
His knowledge does not lie that way. You know, 
Captain, I have slipt a man into his tables ere now, 
and he not a farthing the wiser. 

T. T. Ay, that thou hast, I'll be sworn. 

Bil. Come, come ! let's in, and discourse it further. 
A bottle and a fiddle, and then good-night. 

T. T. A match, a match ! Lead up before, Major ! 

[Exeunt. 

Scene v. 
Enter Eunter and Tyro. 

Bu. What think you of it ? She is a handsome 
gentlewoman, and her father's heir. 

Ty. Think, do you say 1 I'll promise you, my 
stomach wambles* at her already. 

* This word lias long been in use in Scotland as well as in 
England. The celebrated Henry Erskine, Dean of the Faculty 
of Advocates, when pleading before a venerable Senator of the 



46 THE CHEATS. 

Ru. Leave it to me. I will not do with you as t 
do with my clerk, snip half profits. But you know, 
, sir, somewhat ought to be done. Danda est ossa. 

Ty. Whatever you please, sir. If this take, I will 
down into the country, get me an able clerk, and turn 
Justice of peace. 

Ru. And so you may. The Alderman is gone to 
take the air, and ten to one but he makes this way 
homeward. I did once, at distance, propose such a 
thing ; and, now I perceive you relish it, I'll present 
you to him. But to pass the time till he comes — 
you say you are a bachelor of law ? I'll try your wit. 
I have a case here referr'd to me ; pray observe it, and 
give me your opinion in 't. I take it, it runs through 
the whole twenty-four letters. These common 
lawyers are our younger brothers, but they have 
given us the start ; they never let anything come to 
us but what they can make nothing of themselves. 

Ty. Pray, sir, let me hear 't. 

Ru. You shall. 'Tis thus : — \he reads] — ^Abigail, 
a femme sole, seised in tail of the manor of Black-acre, 
makes a feoffment in fee to Cutbeard, upon condition 
that if Daniel shall release Emanuel of and from all 
actions relating to Ferdinand, that then Gregory shall 
satisfy Humphry of and for all marriage -portions 
intended by Jeremy to be given Knipperdoling, with 
his wife's daughter Lettice ; which, Maximilian per- 
ceiving, and believing that Nicholas had a more than 
ordinary influence upon Oh'ver, procures Peter to dis- 
charge Quintilian, and engage Rowland to estate his 
wife Susan in the capital messuage of Tonguewell 
(with a certain salt-marsh and under-woods thereunto 
belonging), and stop his daughter Ursela's mouth with 

College of Justice somewhat slow of comprehension, advanced, 
and most pertinaciously urged, a plea of which his Lordship did 
not perceive the force, although he gave his full attention to the 
learned lawyer's subtle arguments. When concluded, his Lord- 
ship did not venture to deliver judgment, but calmly said : ' "Weel, 
Hairry, there may be a great dale in what ye say, but I'll just let 
it wimble-wamble in ray wame, an' I'll let ye ken what I think 
o't the morn. ' This mode of dealing with a case is now termed 
' taking it to avizandum.' 



THE CHEATS. 47 

a wind-mill and a water-mill left her by her mother. 
Whereupon, Winifred, having lately recovered, in a 
pre-contract against Xenophon, makes a lease to 
Younker, who re-leases to Zachary, who enters upon 
Abigail, who re-enters upon him, and, ejecting him 
out of the premises, burns his principal evidences.' 
And now, sir, what think you ? Where has this man 
his remedy t 

Ty. I should think, sir, he were gone at common 
law, 

Ru. You are always hankering after the common 
law. How shall we hedge in the jurisdiction of 't ? 

Ty. Indeed I cannot tell. But, they say, here is a 
learned astrologer, that undertakes to tell such things 
by the stars. Perhaps it might not be amiss to con- 
sult him. 

Ru. Hark you ! I dare trust you. He knows no 
more of law than you or I do. Now, by my troth, 
but it is a difficult case, and I have given my opinion 
in 't both ways — the devil's in 't if one of 'um ben't 
right. But, as I told you, the Alderman — his con- 
stable and he are a little private ; they'll have done 
presently. 

Enter Whitebroth and Double Diligence. 

Wh. How do you say it was ? 

D. D. Why thus, an't please you : I had, according 
to the duty of my office, just walk'd my round, w^hen 
lo ! about the first of the morning, we perceived a 
land of glimmering, as of Guido Faux's lanthorn ; and 
we said unto it — ' Stand ! And what art thou 1 and 
what meaneth that light at this unseasonable hour of 
the night *? ' when presently a voice answered — ' Nay, 
but what are yef and we said — ' The watch.' And to 
our seeming, it said again — 'Harm watch, harm catch;' 
and there fell a shower, as it had been of chamber- 
pots ; and we were most lewdly bepist, and some pates 
broken. 

Wh. A plain case. The King's majesty's authority 
affronted, in the representative person of my neighbour 



48 THE CHEATS. 

Double Diligence, the constable. Bring 'um before 
me ; I '11 make 'um know what's what. 

D. D. Will it please your worship to grant me your 
warrant 1 I had one from mistress's worship, during 
your sickness, but could make nobody obey it. 

Wh. How 1 not obey her warrant 1 I'd have 'um 
to know she is, in my absence, as good a justice of 
peace as myself Are not man and wife one person 
in law 1 Not obey her warrant ! Let me see who 
dares deny 't ! Come, neighbour, come, I smell a rat ; 
what would you say now, if this should prove to be a 
Bull from the Pope. I say no more. 

[RuNTER and Tyro come up. 

EiL Save you, Mr. Alderman ! I am glad to see 
you so well abroad again. 

JVh. Doctor Eunter ! my loving friend and 
neighbour, well met. 

Bu. This is the gentleman, sir, I told you of He 
is a thriving young man, and you may do what you 
will with him. 

fVh. I shall be glad to be acquainted with you, sir. 

Ty. I hope the doctor mil oblige me in 't. 

JFh. Methinks the air is somewhat sharp. Come, 
Doctor, take your friend with you. [Exeunt. 



Act III. — Scene i. 
Enter Jolly, Afterwit, and Boy. 

Boy. Be pleas'd, gentlemen, to take a turn or two 
in this room. My father is a little private with a 
person of honour, but will be with you presently. 

[Exit. 

Jol. Where are we now 1 Nor better, nor worse, 
but a downright astrological bawdyhouse. The devil 
of anything could I see in t'other room but two or 
three chairs broke in the back, half-a-dozen empty 
gally-pots and a death's-head between two syringes. 



THE CHEATS. 49 

Aft. You may guess forty times, and not hit so 
right again. I believe him a better artist at bawdry 
than conjuring. 

Jol. Not a jot the worse instrument. Do but hear 
him, and you'll quickly judge. And if you love me, 
pray let me manage the conference. He 's somewhat 
long. Where is this man of learning % 

Enter MoPUS. 

Mop. Here, sir ! A poor old man; one or other will 
never let him be quiet till he is in his grave. Your 
commands, gentlemen 1 

Jol. Whj faith, this gentleman and myself have 
receiv'd so large a character of you, that we are 
come to wait on you in the behalf of a friend of 
ours. 

Mop. I have done somewhat in my time, and hope 
I shall never be too old to do good. 

Jol. You say well. There is a friend of ours, that 
for the present shall be nameless, has got a small 
mischance. You may guess what I mean. 

Mop. Well, sir, I apprehend you, and will set him 
right again. 

Jol. Then you take it for granted it must be a man. 
Suppose it be a woman, does that alter the case ? 

Mop. Sir, I'll deal plainly with you. If your friend 
be a man, I'll cure him for live pieces ; but if a woman, 
I shall not take her in hand under twenty. 

Jol. Why this great difference ] 

Mop. sir, not without reason. The sooner you 
cure a man, the sooner you have him again. He's a 
constant Termor. But a woman — ah ! sir, she brings 
grist to mill — cure her once and she grows cun- 
ning ; you'll hardly hear of her more. I shall not 
bate anything of twenty pieces to cure her. But this 
I'll do with you — I'll patch her up against Term for 
forty shillings. 

Jol. Hah ! hah ! Let this satisfy you ; 'tis a man. 
[He gives him money.] — I'll send him t'you. 

Mop. Pray do ; and leave him to me. And if there 

D 



50 THE CHEATS. 

be any virtue in sassa, guaiacum, or turpentine, you 
need not fear him. 

Aft. A rare rogue ! [Aside. 

Jol. Well, sir, I shall. But this is not all our busi- 
ness. We are well satisfied that you are a person 
of occult learning. Pray, sir, oblige us. 

Mop. You look like gentlemen, and I am con- 
fident are so. I'll be free with you. I could discover 
a secret of nature to you, and for the expence of a 
brace of hundred pounds put you in possession of 't. 
It -will give you the knowledge of all things — past, 
present, and to come ; and long life, health, youth, 
blessedness, wisdom, and virtue shall be added to it. 

Aft. As paper and pack-thread. [Aside. 

Mop. But, if you should not make a right use of it, 
by living soberly, temperately, and enjoying it, as if 
you had it not ; but shall mis-employ it, in swagger- 
ing, gluttony, worldly pride, and sensuality, you shall 
not only lose it for the present, but be out of all 
hopes of finding it again for the future. And this is 
that which we call our Magisterium Elixer, or Eosy- 
crucian Pantarva. The father of it is the sun, the 
mother of it the moon, its brothers and sisters the 
rest of the planets ; the wind carries it in its belly, 
and the nurse thereof is the earth. 

Jol. Pray, sir, proceed ; and disclose this son of gold. 

Mop. Hermetically, I shall. It is situated in the 
centre of the earth, and yet falls neither within centre 
nor circumference ; small, and yet great ; earthy, and 
yet watery ; airy, and yet very fire ; invisible, yet 
easily found ; soft as down, yet hard above measure ; 
far off", and yet near at hand. That that is inferior, 
is as that which is superior ; and that which is superior 
is as that which is inferior. Separate the combustible 
from the incombustible, the earth from the fire, the 
fluid from the viscous, the hot from the cold, the 
moist from the dry, the hard from the soft, the subtile 
from the thick — sweetly, and with a great deal of 
judgment, per minima, in the caverns of the earth — 
and thou shalt see it ascend to heaven, and descend 



THE CHEATS. 5l 

to earth, and receive the powers of superiors and 
inferiors. Comprehend this, and be happy ! Thou 
liast discover'd the balsam of sulphur, the humidum 
rculicale of metals, the sanctuary of nature ; and there 
is little or nothing between thee and the mountain of 
diamonds, and all the spirits of astromancy, geomancy, 
and coschinomancy are at your command. 

Jol. Pray, sir, how call you that % That last again ! 

Mop. Coschinomancy, sir ; that is to say, the most 
mysterious art of sieve and sheers. I must confess, I 
was once of the mind to have oblig'd the world with 
a discourse upon this subject; but since that, the 
Avorld and I have been better acquainted, and I find 
it base and unworthy. 

Jol. Troth, sir, 'tis pity but you went on ; such a 
Quixotism in philosophy must needs please every 
man. For my own part, I dare promise you, you shall 
want neither money nor coals as long as this gentle- 
man's purse and mine can supply you. 

Mop. A^Tiy, truly, sir, encouragement may do much. 
I am neither Mede nor Persian ; upon good demon- 
strative reasons I may be persuaded. — \A hell rings 
ivithin.] — What pity it is, that beast of mankind, that 
Goth to all good literature, — for he deserves no better 
from me, — Dioclesian, burnt all the books of this art, 
and for no other reason but that he fear'd, forsooth, 
they would make gold too common. A wise fellow, — 
another Lycurgus, — to avoid drunkenness, cut down 
the \anes. You see by this he confest it feasible. 

Enter Boy. 

Boy. Sir, I must speak a word with you in haste. 

Mop. Gentlemen, I'll wait on you again instantly. 

Jol. By no means. We shall have further business 
to you, and Avill see you again. We follow you. 

[Exit MoPUS. 
What say you, now 1 Is not this a special rogue 1 

Aft. As ever breathed. But to my business — I am 
afraid I shall want present money ; I could never find 
any wheels move merrily VN^thout greasing. 



52 THE CHEATS. 

Jol. Nor I neither. And therefore, to prevent the 
worst, try to get t'other £1000 of the Alderman, and 
crossbite him with his own money. 

Aft. And that I can. He has oiFer'd it me ! 

Jol. And do it. If a man must break, a £1000 
will signify little in the sum. Come, mind your 
business, and you cannot miscarry if you would ! 

[Exeunt 



Scene ii. 
Enter Whitebroth and Timothy. 

Tim. I am glad to see your worship tread so lusty 
and strong again. I hope you'll be better for 't. 

Wh. Ay, Tim. 'Twould have vex't a man, to have 
just got an estate, and strait pipt o'er the pearch he 
had ere he had time to look upon 't. Mr. Scruple 
l)ut divers things very home to me, and 'twas ten to 
one but all had come out, but that I thought with 
myself there was no such need yet. Come, Tim, leave 
that, and let's see how affairs stand at present. How 
have you done with your rotten raisins ? Did they 
yield well "? 

Ti7n. Troth, sir, the wine-coopers have done their 
part ; they have made you at least sixty pipes of wine 
out of 'um. But they advise your worship to get 
your money for 'um before they stir out of your cellar ; 
for however they may be palatable enough as long as 
they lie there, yet, as soon as you stir 'um, they'll 
kick up their heels. 

Wh. Good enough to be pist against a wall an' 
they were worse. And now I think on't, you 
remember the country vintner, that bought the pipe 
of Canary on shipboard, and gave it to Eascal-Mark, 
to cheat the Customhouse ? See it be cran'd off into 
another pipe, and fill'd up again with your new what 
d' you call it 1 'Tis good enough for sinners. If he 
discover it, you may tell him 'tis his own mark. 



THE CHEATS. 53 

Tim. It shall be done. But, sir, Mr. Spendal was 
to have waited on you yesterday touching a bond of 
his of £500, which he says is paid, and you promis'd 
to deliver up. 

Wh. O ho ! let me see. Here 'tis — \]ie reads] — 
' If the said Spendal shall content, satisfy, and pay,' 
etc. A^Tiy, see — the condition of the obligation, which 
is made for his benefit, and not mine, says, if he shall 
content. Pray tell him, notmthstanding the pay- 
ment of the money, his bond is forfeited ; for I am 
not contented. Does he think I can be content with 
six per cent. ? I have no more to say to him ; I'll take 
my course. Pray mind your own business. Have 
you receiv'd the Jew's money, and sent him the pack 
of left-handed gloves I order'd you % 

Tim. Yes, sir ; 'tis done. 

JVh. Put tricks upon me ! Make me buy a round 
I^arcel of gloves ; and now you know I have 'um by 
me, if I "^^all not bate a third part of the money, you 
have occasion but for half of 'um, and be hang'd. I'll 
Jew you, with a horse pox. I have receiv'd half your 
money, and you shall have half the gloves — that is to 
say, all the left-handed ones. You may truck them 
off with maim'd soldiers ; if not, I'll make you pay 
sauce for t'other. Reach me that book — and while 
I remember it, go into my chamber, and upon the 
table you'll find a £1000 in half-cro"vvns ; pray weigh 
'um one by one, and lay by such as are over weight, 
and see 'um melted down. 'Tis a hard world, and fit 
every man make the most of his own. — [The hell rings.] 
— See, w^ho's at door ! [Exit Timothy. 

[SYhitebroth reads.] — ' Taken up on Bottomry, upon 
the good ship call'd the Mary, to be paid with interest, 
after the rate of £30 per cent., within ten days after 
her coming to anchor in the River of Thames, £1700 ' 
— So, so, that's paid : All got. She's sunk at New- 
found-Land. Besides, I have insur'd a £1000 upon her 
myself. How wealth trowls upon an honest man! 
The master deserves a £100 extraordinary for this, 
and shall have it. This is the fifth ship he has sunk 



54 THE CHEATS. 

for me. ^ Item, Paid the Irish army, in Peru dollars.' 
Ay, there's a sweet business. 

Enter Timothy. 

Who's that ? 

Tim. Sir, Mr. Afterwit desires to see you. 

iVTi. Stay him a while without ; I'll be for him 
presently. — [Exit Tim.] — Here's a squire, too, will be 
worth me somewhat. Let me see his account. 'Lent 
his father, upon judgment, £4000. Item, More upon 
a statute, £3000. Item, Upon mortgage, £2500. Item, 
U2)on his own account, upon bond, £500. Item, More, 
£300. Item, Bound to me, for other men, £1000.' 
Pox o' these bonds ! I must persuade him to take 
another £1000, and hedge all into one good mort- 
gage. To see how this world goes round ! My great- 
grandfather was a wealthy citizen, and left my grand- 
father a gentleman, forsooth ! But what between my 
my father and him, they so order'd the business that 
they left me nev'r a groat. This fellow's grandfather 
was a law-driver, and swallow'd my father up ; his 
father set the estate a moving, and this will set it 
quite away. His first ancestor cheated mine, and I 
hoj^e I shall be able to requite his love upon his 
posterity. Thus, you see, the wheel comes round to 
the same point again. This city is like the sea — few 
estates but ran out of 't at first, and will run into 't 
at last. Timothy ! 

Enter Timothy. 
Desire my friend to walk in ! 

Enter Afterwit. 

Mr. Afterwit ! the welcom^st man alive ! You were 
wont to come and sit with me ; but now, you're grown 
such a courtier you forget your old friends. On my con- 
science you want money, or I had not seen you now. 
Away with 't ! 'tis all but dirt ! You shall not want 
a £1000 as long as I can help you; nay, an' 'twere 
£10,000, to do you good. The son of my old friend i 



I 



THE CHEATS. 55 

J ft. I thank you, sir, and shall make use of you ! 
But I'll promise you, this was purely visit. 

Wh. I am the more beholding to you. — [The waytes 
play tvitlmi.] — Hark, Tim ! Beat out those rogues. 
What would they have ] 

Tim. They are the waytes, sir. They bid you good 
morrow every morning; and they are now come to 
congratulate your worship's recovery. 

7Vh. I'll give 'um nothing ; they are the cause of 
more beggars and bastards. When a man would 
sleep quietly, they wake him, and be hang'd ; and 
then the good woman plucks him by the sleeve, and 
cries : ' Heark, husband, heark ! the waytes ! heark !' 
Come, Mr. Afterwit, we'll out of the noise. 'Tis as 
dreadful to me as the last trump. [Exeunt. 



Scene hi. 

Enter Scruple ami Mrs. Whitebroth, conducted 
by a Boy. 

Sc. 'Tis a fine child ! I'll try his wit. How far 
have you learnt, youth 1 

Boy. Sententia puerilis, sir. 

Sc. A good boy ! You may in time come to your 
(/enus and species. 

Boy. I am past that already — 

' Quae genus, aut flexum variant quaecunque novato 
Ritu deficiunt superantve, heteroclita simto. ' 

Sc. A most emphatical description of us, sister 
Whitebroth. We are a kind of heteroclites ; and 
oftentimes sav'd even contrary to rules. A witty 
child ! Let's see ! Byssus, abissus ; how render you 
that % 

Boy. Byssus, a bottomless pit ; aUssus, a more bottom- 
less pit. 

Sc. Child, thou art in the right. There is a great 
— great — great bottomless bottom. Indeed there is ! 



56 THE CHEATS. 

Boy. Please you to give me leave to ask you one 
word ? 
. Sc. With all my heart, child. What is 't 1 

Boy. What's the English of adolescentior ? 

Sc. Adolescentior/ — Hum! Adolescentior I — Haw! 

Adolescentior — Ay that is as much as to say — 

adolescentior Now, fie child ! Ask questions with 

that dirty face % Go wash it, child — go wash it ! 
Fie, child, fie ! 

Boy. It signifies a ladder. Adolescens, a lad; ado- 
lescentior, a lad-der. 

Sc. I profess I did not observe it. I see a man may 
live and learn every day. Go, child, wash your face, 
and let your father know I am here. 

Boy. Yes, sir ; I shall. [Exit Boy. 

Sc. Now, indeed, Mrs. W^hitebroth, this is your 
fault. I am present in body, but absent in mind. 
I could chide you now. But I hear him coming. 

Enter MoPUS, as from his study. 

Did not I tell you of that globe 1 'Tis well I did not 
venture you by yourself I'll sift him. 

Moix Worthy sir, and you, good madam, most wel- 
come ! Be pleas'd to let me know your commands, 
and you shall see I am so great a reverencer of your 
coat that my whole art shall lie at your feet. 

Sc. He speaks like other men. — [Aside.'] — You call 
it right ; it is a coat indeed — no cassock, but a good, 
plain, honest, distinguishing jump.* But to our busi- 
ness. I have heard, sir, you are a man of art ; and 
therefore I would fain know what you conceive of 
this notable conjunction of Satan and Jupiter in 
October next, which the learned believe to be the 
forerunner of doomsday, if not the thing itself. 

Mop. Saturn and Jupiter, you mean, in Sagitary ? 

Sc. The same. What may it portend 1 Good or 
eviU 

Mop. Much good, no doubt ! Wherein, though I 

* The weeping cassock scar'd into a jump, 
A sign the presbyter's worn to the stamp. — Cleaveland, 



THE CHEATS. 57 

dare not be positive, yet, as far as Trismegistus, 
Albobazen, Haly ; Messahala, Zael, Rabbi Abraham ; 
Albubater, Avenezra, Albumacer ; Guido, Bonetus, His- 
palensis, Finnius ; Alchindus, Proclus, Monteregius ; 
Albertus Teutonicus, Averrois ; and the most ancient 
Chaldeans, Egyptians, Moors, Jews, or Arabians have 
discourst, either this or the like, I shall give you my 
opinion. 

Sc. I profess, a great-read man ! 

Mop. And here we are to observe, which of the 
two planets, Saturn and Jupiter, — this the very best, 
that the very worst, — is strongest at the time of his 
conjunction ; for according to his nature will the 
effects follow. 

Sc. In truth, learnedly. Pray, sir, on ! 

Mop. The last conjunction of these two planets 
happened 

Sc. Pray, sir, no chance or happening. Was, I 
pray! 

Map. Then, was in February 1643, in 25 degrees of 
Pisces — a sign of the wat'ry triplicite, not known in 
nature before, which produced those monstrous actions 
not heard of in the world before. And now, forasmuch 
as their conjunction is in Sagitary, the day-house and 
triplicite of Jupiter, we may conclude it is the more 
considerable, in regard they have wholly left the 
aquatic trigon, and will for many years make their 
conjunction in the fiery tranquillity; for when any 
alteration from one trigon to his contrary happens 

Sc. Good sir, no happening, let me beseech you ; 
for look you, d'you see, as this — ^good sir, things come 
not by hap or chance. 

Mop. Well, what you please. It is impossible but 
that some admirable effects, quite opposite to the 
former, must needs follow. And of this opinion is 
the learned Haly, and, generally, all the ancients and 
moderns. 

Sc. But suppose it should be otherwise 1 

Mop. Then we're mistaken; and that's very unlikely, 
amongst so many learned men. As we ordinarily 



58 THE CHEATS. 

converse in the world, we may be mistaken ; but in 
cathedra (that is to say, our studies), 'tis impossible. 

Sc. A pretty word for a study. Cathedra, quasi 
cathedra. But pray, sir, what effect do you conceive 
this conjunction may have upon the whore of Babylon % 

Mop. Why, truly, that is somewhat uncertain ; in 
regard it will depend so much upon that great eclipse 
of Sol in Cancer in the house of the moon, the 2 2d day 
of June 1666, and will appear almost total at Eome. 
For my part, I expect some or other should marry her 
up, and make an honest woman of her, or otherwise 
(as Mr. Brightman, upon his pair-royal of sixes, has 
most excellently observ'd) she is likely to get such a 
clap she'll hardly claw it off again in haste. 

Sc. I do profess, you have handled the point notably. 
I am convinc'd — there is no devil in this globe. 

Mrs. Wli. La ! you know, Mr. Scruple, you'll trust 
me another time ; won't you % 

Sc. Eeproach not my good meaning. Certainly, 
sir, you must needs have added a rare collection to 
your own observation. 

Mop. Yes, I have some toys, for so the world 
esteems 'um. However, to me they are jewels. 

Sc. As what, good sir 1 

Mop. Many, many. In particular, a treatise of the 
philosopher's stone, written by Janbosher, Adam's 
tutor, whom you find recorded in the Indian books 
written by Isagarith about a hundred years before his 
time. 

Sc. I thought letters had not been so ancient. 

Mop. Alas ! there are diverse very good authors, writ 
before the Flood. I have some half a dozen of 'um 
within, if I could tell where to find 'um. Men of my 
profession cannot well be without 'um. When I see 
you next, I'll show you the very autographum by which 
Seth drew his pillars. 

Sc. Yes ; that were worth the seeing. And, now I 
find you so near the Flood, give me the exact time 
and the language of that time, and I'll say you're a 
scholar. 



THE CHEATS. 59 

Mop. For the time, it was, according to our com- 
putation, the 5th day of June, in the 1656th year of 
the world, one month and seventeen days, nor more 
nor less ; and by all good tokens, upon a Friday — Sol 
in Gemini. The Dominical letter that year D — fifteen 
minutes precisely after sun-setting. 

Sc. I see you're very exact. 

Mop. Alas ! we must be so ; haK a minute's loss so 
many years ago had been the Lord knows what by 
this time. Then for the language, notwithstanding 
anything that has been said to prove it high Dutch, 
I am clearly of opinion it was Hebrew, or some other 
jargon. 

Sc. Nay, there you must bate me an ace ;* for, 
though I look upon it as obscure as the head of Nile, 
yet, as far as it may be lawful to pry into unreveal'd 
mysteries, I dare boldly pronounce it to have been 
Welsh. 

Mop. Welsh I Afednvch cJuvi Gymercege ? 

Sc. Why, truly, no ; but I have a Httle look'd into 
the learning of the tongue, and that for two reasons. 
The one, for the honour of my nurse ; for I am to tell 
you I suck'd a Welsh nurse, and so, by a synecdoche 
— [he pronounces it long] — may be called a AYelshman. 
The other, that I have observ'd it makes an excellent 
sound in a country church, and consequently is tanta- 
mount to all the Eastern languages, and, I'll promise 
you, as guttural (that is to say, throteral) — Y Craclog^ 
Crugog, Crogicch, Y Gican icr hidl fu gan (r) hvch. 

Mop. 0' my word, there's no more than Kaivse Fohi 
in this. Pray, sir, how do you English it ? 

Sc. It matters not ; or if it did, 'tis not the custom. 
But I had almost lost the arg-ument. I say 'twas 
Welsh, and thus I prove it. 'Tis confest of all hands, 
that before the confusion of tongues there was but 
one language ; which being so, 'tis more than pro- 
bable that Gomer, the first grandchild of Noah, and 
first ancestor of the Welshmen, spake the same lan- 

* ' Excuse me there.'— Naees. See Davenant's Works, vol. L 
p. 158. 



60 THE CHEATS. 

guage that liis grandfather did ; and that from him, 
by continu'd succession, it has t3een deriv'd to them. 
For example : Ask a Welshman at this day what 
countrjTnan ? He will answer, Cimro glan, a true 
Welshman ; that is to say, Gomera glan. In like 
manner, for his language, Gymercege quasi Gomercege ; 
both from Gomer. And, truly, I take the Cimbrians 
to be much the same — Cimbri quasi Cambrit, quasi 
Cymbri, quasi Gomeri. And again, Mumgumri, quasi 
Mount Gomery — the very seat of Gomer himself. 

Mop. This is draper, diaper ; napkin, nipkin ; pip- 
kin. King Pepin. 

Sc. Most excellent ! I see you have studied etymo- 
logy. I might yet further, and, I think, without 
much difficulty, make it out that the mountains of 
Ararat were Penmenmaure in Wales ; and the most 
ancient Egyptians originally Welsh, as may be more 
than suspected from their deification of leeks. But I 
had rather come nearer home. What, pray, were the 
Galli Senones that sack'd Rome 1 Welshmen, no 
doubt ; the very name speaks it — Gallus, Guallus, or 
JVallus^ a Welshman. In like manner, the Gallo- 
Grcedans, under Brennus, the same — Brennus, Brcnn, 
or Brenning, a king, in Welsh. But what do I go 
about to prove that which nobody dares deny 1 I'll 
give you but one smart parting blow. The red-streak't 
apple which makes such excellent cyder, what was it 
originally but the Welsh crab "? 

Mop. Sir, you have shown yourself a person of no 
ordinary learning ; and because I see you are a vir- 
tuoso, be pleased to walk in with me, and I may 
chance to show you some rarities not unworthy your 
perusal. And you, madam, if you have any commands 
for me, I'll receive 'um there. 

Sc. We'll follow you, sir. [E^unt 



the cheats. 61 

Scene iv. 
Enter Whitebroth, Tyro, and Timothy. 

Wli. You're welcome, sir ! and I have heard so well 
of you from the doctor, your friend, that I'll show you 
fair play. Catch her, and take her. Timothy ! 

Tim. Your pleasure, sir. 

Wli. Go, bid my daughter come hither. 

[Exit Timothy. 
'Tis a good girl, and will make a good wife ; and I 
hope, whoever marries her will be a good husband to 
her. She will deserve it, though I say it. 

Ty. Never fear it, sir. If ever I kill her, 'twill be 
Adth kindness. My mother would always say 

Enter Beatrice. 

I was the best natur'd thing I 

Wh. Come hither, Beatrice. I am going abroad, 
and will leave you to entertain this gentleman till I 
come again. 

Bea. I shall obey you, sir. 

[Tyro goes backward, scraping. 

Wh. Nay, to her, man. Never fall into the rear 
when you should charge. 

Ty. I warrant you, sir, for one. 

[Exit Whitebroth ; Tyro struts. 

Bea. What, in the name of goodness, have we here 1 
By my father's last words it should be a sweetheart, 
forsooth ! How it struts, like a crow in a gutter ! I 
have a great mind to hear it speak ! [All this aside. 

Ty. Methinks, madam, this is a very fine room. 

Bea. It cannot be otherwise, sir, while you are in it. 

Ty. Alas ! good madam, 'tis your goodness ! Truly, 
pray, what a clock do you count it ? 

Bea. He has a mind to show his watch; but I'll 
prevent him. — [Aside.] — 'Tis much about four, sir. 

Ty. I have a thing in my pocket corrects the sun. 
[He pulls out a large brass watch. 



62 THE CHEATS. 

Bea. How do you call it, good sir ? 

Ty. The vulgar call it a watch ; but according to 
the learned, 'tis a frochleal Iwradeixe. 

Bea. He that made it was as little sparing of his 
stuff, as t' other of his breath, that new-christen'd it 
by so stubborn a name. 

Ty. Will your ladyship be pleas'd to accept it ? I 
assure you 'tis at your service. It shall be part of 
your imrafernalia. 

Bea. By no means, sir. You speak in phrase ! 

Ty. Alas ! madam, 'tis the way of the learned. Term 
is three-quarters of the art. Here's this, now — \he 
points to a wooden standisJi] — I warrant you, you would 
have called it an ink-box, or at best a standish. 

Bea. It appears no other to me at present. 

Ty. Nor yet to me. But the word's too common ; 
a butcher would have said as much. Oh, no ! 'Tis a 
ligneous pixid, accommodated with two plumbeous 
receptacles or stanneous repositories for ink and sand. 
Or, more laconically, an escritoire. 

Bea. You're learned, sir ! 

Ty. Thanks to a good tutor, some small founda- 
tion. I must present you something. — [He takes out 
a flageolet.'] — -What say you to this ? Your better sort 
of gentlemen seldom go without one of them in their 
pockets. [As Tyro plays, 

Enter Afterwit speaking to Timothy. 

Aft. A suitor, say'st thou ? 'Tis a puppet ! 

Tim. You may be too confident, sir. 

Aft. There ! — [He gives Timothy money.'] — And if 
your master comes to hear of it, tell him I was drunk. 

Tim. I shall, sir. [Exit Timothy ; Aeterwit reels. 

Aft. How now ! Where's the Alderman % AYhat 
have we got here 1 A glister-pipe ? 

[He strikes o^ Tyro's hat, and kicks him. 

Bea. Forbear, sir ! Know where you are ! 

Ty. The hat cost more money than to be made a 
football. 

Aft. Ha ! reply ? Madam, your fan ! 



THE CHEATS. 63 

Ty. Murder ! murder ! murder ! 

[Exit Tyro, and runs against a post. 

Bea. Was there ever such rudeness I 

[She offers to go out 

Aft. Nay; you shall only stay to see I am not 
drunk I thought this the best disguise I could use 
to keep your father from believing I made any pre- 
tences to you. Well, madam, I love you, and you 
know it. You may be proud. Farewell ! [Exit. 

Bea. A mad wooer ! However, would my father 
lik'dhim! [Exit 



Scene v. 

Enter Whitebroth, Runter, Timothy, Double 
Diligence, all the women, and Scruple leading two 
of them. 

Bu. Good Mr. Scruple, satisfy my conscience. An 
oath adds no legality to the action. If I swear to kill 
a man, must I do it ? 

Sc. Why, thus — ^hum ! — ^haw ! — [He groios pettish.'] 
— Conscience ! me no conscience. I came not hither 
to resolve any man's conscience ; it is not my way. 
Truly, I hope, neighbours — [he alters his voice] — I 
may not only hope, but dare say, that you are all so 
well satisfied of what I have deliver'd to you, that 
you are really convinc'd that they are truths not to 
be question'd. You know I meddle not with con- 
science ; I came to teach ye. — [He raises his voice.] — 
Did I for this preach up the holy covenant 1 told you 
you must deny learning and reason, and give the good 
cause a lift 1 Was it for this that that zealous son of 
thunder, Mas' Andrew, told you that he came to you 
mth a commission to bid you subscribe % that it was 
a spiritual contract in letters of flesh 1 and that he 
came a wooing to you for him that had commissionated 
him, and therefore call'd upon you to come and be 
handfasted by subscribing the contract ? Did I for 



64 THE CHEATS. 

this convince you of the lawfulness of the thing, and, 
as it were, compel you to the wedding 1 And will 
you call that holy violence a Spanish inquisition ? 
Have I done all this, and will you now fall back? 
Shall our old lease run out, and the land be sow'd 
with cockels again 1 Ah ! ha ! 

[The women answer him iiith a long-draicn Hui ! 

Ru. This is not the point. I cannot deny but that I 
took it myself ; but then, was then ; and now, is now. 

Sc. Ah ! be stedfast, and do not believe I speak this 
out of particular egotism, or fondlishness to myself. 
Ah I no. This thing of selfishness is a very nothing- 
ness ; a mere — mere Ah ! do but consider it. — 

[He is out, and turns it off.'] — (And pray, neighbours 
there, leave your whispering, and mind the matter in 
hand.) — Hum! — I say — ^hum ! do but consider what 
acting, wonder-working, advancing, and Christian- 
comforting times, these were. How the rebuke of 
the poor, behed, slander'd people was taken away, 
and their reputation clear'd ! Ah — ah ! what great 
things were i^Tought upon the spirits of men, even 
through the bowels of difficulty ! Aa ! Antichrist 
was dying in his limbs ; nay, dying upwards. And 
this kingdom, that was once so given to it that it 
was caird the Pope's Ass — ah ! how was it become (as 
the Assembly most happily found it out) the chief of 
the ten horns that were to gore the whore ! Ah — aa ! 
good people, do not fear. There are more Assemblies 
coming, and more purses opening to carry on the 
work. Ah ! comfort yourselves, that though these 
land-destroying sins of superstition, innovation, and 
idolatry were sins in the kingdom, they were not sins 
of the kingdom ; and a nation was never destroy'd 
without national sins. Mark that, beloved ; pray 
mark that I — [The women again — hui.] — Aa ! rouze up 
yourselves, and let this beget in you, as it were — 
hum ! haw ! — new spiritual mouth- waterings. Let it 
not be said of you that you began well, but gave it 
over when there was most need of you. Aa ! — no — 
If we must perish, 'tis better to perish in hope than 



THE CHEATS. 65 

fear. Aa ! — we must be a doing people as well as a 
sapng people. — [The vjomen again — hui.] — It is not 
enough that you have done well already, but you 
must press forward ; and like the Grecian, that when 
his hands were cut off clap'd hold with his teeth. — 
Ah — aa ! — do you but stand in the gap, and there is 
a block in the way; it cannot be got over. The 
nation cannot be destroyed as long as you are in 't. 
Ah ! then, do not despond in this day of trial, this 
day of treading down and not builduig up. Aa ! — 
give not up this good old cause, which you have so 
long contended for with so much precious blood and 
so much precious treasure. Aa ! — forsake it not, lest 
the malignants rejoice ; lest the malignant and dis- 
affected say, ' You've fought to much purpose.' — Aa ! — 
bear it yet but a little, and you will see Dagon totter ; 
and when he is once running down hill, he will not 
stop till he come to th' bottom. — \Here he sinks his 
voice.'] — In the meantime, — ah ! — what remams % but 
that (forasmuch as the sword is yet out of our hands) 
— ah ! — but that we, as it were, descend from ourselves 
in petitioning for toleration and preservation of our 
mortal bodies against the rude enemy ; and that we 
promise to be their servants in everything that we 
shaU judge to be righteous. [Here, all — hui. 

Bit. There I hold with you, good Mr. Scruple ; and 
the Codes are of the same opinion. Tempori, aptare 
decet. Come, let 's in, and consult the Form. 

So. I am for no Form. Yea, I hate the name ; I 
abominate it. Fmnm, bonum fragile est [Exeunt 



Act iy. — Scene l 

Enter Bilboe and Titere Tu, fighting. Bilboe 
drives Titere Tu round the stage. 

Bit I'll make a rogue of you, sirrah I 
T. T. Why, Major ! Nay, good Major ! Have a care I 
E 



66 THE CHEATS. 

Bil. Thou son of a woman ! do'st think men are 
bulls, and get their money by roaring 1 Cheat me 
of my share, you dog 1 — \T. T. has one leg over.] — Are 
you earthing, you rogue 1 I'll unkennel you ! 

T. T. Nay, Major — Major, what d'you mean ? Nay, 
nay, nay ; flesh and blood is not able to endure this. 
— [He takes his sioord in both hands, winks, and runs 
again at t'other; Bilboe runs off.] — Nay; I am bound 
to follow no man. Do you think I am obliged to fight 
you by the mile "? [Bilboe peeps in. 

Bil. The rogue's afraid, or he had mischieft me. — 
[He comes on again.] — Sa, sa, sa, sa ! 

T. T. Hold, Major, hold ! Tore George, you might 
have spoiled a man so. 

Bil. Why, sirrah ? You stinking, lousy totterde- 
mallion ! you raggamuffin, tarrarag rogue ! who made 
you a captain 1 Was it not 1 1 Speak ! 

T. T. No, troth, was it not. 'Twas even the box- 
keeper of the Three Kings, and the Fleece link-boys 
made us both — you a Major, and me a Captain. 

Bil. Why, you Eotterdam \dllain, deny it if thou 
canst! Did not I pick thee up at a threepenny 
ordinary, brought you into gentlemen's company, 
dub'd you a knight of the blade, taught you the 
method of making new plots and borrowing half-a- 
crown of your landlady upon the hopes of 'um, and 
after all this sign'd your certificate to make you 
capable of those arrears you never fought for ? And 
do you now forget your patroon, sirrah *? do you forget 
your patroon 1 

T. T. And, good Major, recollect yourself too, if 
you please. Don't you know that I know that you 
were never above a corporal in all your life, and 
that, too, not till fighting was quite out of fashion 1 
Bow the stick on t'other side, and 'twill be straight. 

Bil. I must kill the rogue ! — {They fight again, as 
hefore.] — 'Twas bravely fought ! Thou hast acquitted 
thyself like a man of mettle. Let's breathe ! 

T. T. Did not I, if you are yet cool enough to hear 
truth, teach you your top, your palm, and your slur 1 



THE CHEATS. 67 

Shew'd you the mystery of jack-in-a-box,* and the frail 
die 1 Taught you the use of up-hills, down-hills, and 
petars 1 the wax'd, the grav'd, the slipt, the goad, the 
fullam, the flat, the bristle, the bar ;t and, generally, 
instructed you from prick -penny to long-lawrence 1 
And is the question now, Who is beholden 1 

Bil. That ever friends should fall out about trifles ! 
— [They drop their swords and embrace.'] — Prithee, let's 
discourse the business quietly ; and since 'tis gone so 
far as to be taken notice of in the town, cross and pile J 
between us who shall wear his arm in a scarf 

T. T. Agreed ! But hold ! the de\dl a cross have 1 1 

Bil, Or I. Then knots and flats ! Our swords shall 
serve. This, knots ; that, flats. I cry knots ! 

T. T. And I flats ! Twirl up ! — [Bilboe twirls up 
his swoi'd.] — 'Tis flats ! 'Tis yours, Major ; all thine 
own, boy ! 

Bil. Well, it can't be help'd. A man's ne'er the 
worse man for a mischance. But hark you, Captain ! 
upon honour, no talking 1 

T. T. No, no, no ! First blood ! first blood ! And 
now. Major, you think I cheated you 1 By this good 
Morglay ! the rogue was resolved to fight, and I had no 
reason but to suffer it to be taken up. I'll be sworn, 
I got not so much as a reconciliation supper by 't ! 

Bil. This is it, when men must manage their busi- 
ness by themselves. All covet, and all lose. You 
think you are well enough if you can but say your 
gamut by rote, though you are not able to prove a 
note of 't. Come, come ! I must tell you there's more 

* Substituting empty boxes for others of like appearance full of 
money. 

t These terms are applicable to false or loaded dice, or to the 
knavish mode of handliiig them. 

X Cross and pile — a chance play with money, such as that now 
called pitch and toss. 

T^Tiackum had neither cross nor pile, 

His plunder was not worth the while. — HuDiBKAS. 

This I humbly conceive to be perfect boys' play ; cro^s, I win, 
and pile, you lose ; or, what is yours is mine, and what's mine is 
my own. — Swift. 



68 THE CHEATS. 

requii^ed to be a rogue than to say I will be a rogue ! 
A man would have thought one of your years and 
education might have easily guessed who would fight 
and who not. 

T. T. Pox on 't ! 'tis past ! 

Enter Tyro. 

Prithee, no more of 't ! See ! here comes my squire 
I told you of ! Noble squire 1 Your servant ! Pray, 
Major, be pleas'd to know my friend ! 

[BiLBOE and Tyro salute. 

Ty. Oh, Captain, I have been all about to look for 
you ! Not fighting, I hope 1 

T. T. No ! The Major and I have been only mea- 
suring blades. Here's the pretty'st thing you ever 
handled. Hey, dash ! — \He foins at Tyro.] — Toledo 
to an inch ; right Thomas de Ayala ! Upon my credit, 
but two of 'um came over in three ships. Do but see 
how finely 'tis mounted ! Sa, sa ! Observe — how 
true it bends! Ah! for a pass in flanconade ! — [At 
Tyro again.'] — 'Tis a trusty steel, and has been the 
death of 

Bil. A thousand frogs ! [Aside. 

T. T. More than I'll speak of ; or, to tell you truth, 
dare. But hark you, squire ! hast thou any noble 
achievements for thy man of Mars % Must the great 
Turk die 1 Speak ! His breath hangs on thy lips ! 

Ty. Why, truly. Captain, I came to ask your advice. 
I have been most lamentably abus'd ; nay, in the pre- 
sence of my mistress, too ! 

T. T. Send him a cartel, boy ! send him a cartel, 
and I'll carry it ! Is he of mortal race 1 

Ty. Why, truly. Captain, I cannot tell what he is. 
But this I am sure, he had a good material hand and 
hoof. 

Bil. How, Captain 1 This gentleman is your friend 1 

T. T. He is ; and I'm engaged in honour to see him 
righted ! 

Bil. 'Twas bravely spoke. And pray, think of no 
second but myself Good sir ! — [to Tyro] — set forth 



THE CHEATS. 69 

the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ^ 
it may be matter of life. 

Ty. Then, so 't please you, thus : — I was entertain- 
ing my mistress with this little bauble 

\He sTwius the jiageolet. 

Bit. 'Tis somewhat beneath the standard, I must 
confess. But pray, on ! 

Ty. ^\Tien, of a sudden, a rude, roaring roisterer — 

Bil. His name, good sir ? 

Ty. Truly, I could not learn that. It being in the 
city, 'tis probable it was some merchant or other got 
drunk. 

Bil. Not unlikely. Proceed ! 

Ty. I say, then, this rude fellow, without scarce 
saying a word, gives me a good sound box. 

Bil. Not to interrupt you, sir, was it the bucketoon 
or the bucketado % Logically or rhetorically '? That 
is to say, with the clunch fist or open palm 1 

Ty. Why, truly, neither. But, as near as I can 

remember, it was with the back of the hand on the 

cheek ; for, with the same motion, he strook off my 

hat. Thus, Major ! [He strikes o/Bilboe's hat; 

BiLBOE stoops, takes it up, and rubs it. 

Bil. 0, ho ! the I)e rere main ! Why, then, the 
question will be singly this — whether a blow with 
the back of the hand upon the cheek may be call'd a 
box on the ear. For my part, I am clearly of opinion 
not. 

T. T. To take it literally, I grant it you. But then 
answer me whether it were not a probable box o' the 
ear 1 I take it 'twas. 

Bil. So far I agree with you. Captain. But pray, 
sir, the rest ? 

Ty. Then, as if his foot had kept time with his hand, 
he gave me such a kick in ana, that, to avoid him, I 
had almost beaten out my brains against a post ! 

Bil. This last of the post was your own act, and 
may by no means be call'd his. However, upon the 
whole matter, you are wrong'd, and we'll see you 
righted ! 



70 THE CHEATS. 

Ty. Thank you, good Major ! I am beholden to 
you ! 

T. T. D'you hear me, Squire 1 You see what pains 
the Major has taken in your business — you must 
present him! 

Ty. 'Tis my intention. Pray, let's meet here about 
an hour hence, and we'll further consider of 't ! 

T. T. We'll attend you. Your servant ! 

\E7x,unt severally. 



Scene ii. 

Enter Mopus, solus. 

Mop. So, so ! the trade goes merrily on ! Let it 
hold but one seven years, and I shall go near to fine 
for Alderman. 

Enter Mrs. Mopus. 

Mrs. Mop. Mopus ! Mopus ! Here's the constable's 
wife to have her fortune read ! She had a bastard 
before she was married ! has had two husbands, and 
one daughter by this ! One Major Bilboe is her sweet- 
heart ; and I more than believe our Alderman has a 
finger in the pie too ! [Exit Mrs. Mopus. 

Mop. The de^dl's in 't if I miss her fortune ! I shall 
be conjuror whether I will or no. 

Enter Mrs. Double Diligenck 

Save you, gentlewoman ! Your business with me ? 

Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I have heard you are a cunning 
man, and can tell a woman anything ! 

Mop. Such things have been done, and may again. 
Let me see your hand ! — [She gives him her hand ; he 
pores on it] — Three husbands ! The first dead ; the 
second li^dng — a man of authority ! 

3Irs. D. Now, indeed, sir, he is a constable ! Bless 
me ! 

Mop. Your third shall be very rich — a common- 



THE CHEATS. 71 

councilman at least ! 'and jou shall have children by 
him ! 

Mrs. D. How many have I had already 1 

Mop. Let me see ? One daughter, and no more — 
that is, since you were married ! 

Mrs. D. To see what learning can do ! 

3fop. Ah, mistress, I travell'd hard for 't ! I have 
been where never any man was before me or since ! 
I'll speak a bold word — I have been so far that I 
might have put my finger in the very hole where the 
■wind came out ; and all this for a little knowledge ! 

Mrs. D. Methinks 'tis a great deal ! Pray, a little 
more ! 

Mojp. You should have three diseases ; and if you 
'scape the first and second you may arrive to the third. 
You shall bury all three husbands, and be very fortu- 
nate toward your latter ©nd ! You were born — \lie 
turns Ms globe] — under Cancer; and have receiv'd a 
hurt by fire, hot water, or some other way ! 

Mrs. D. Now truly, but I burnt my hand with a 
smoothing iron ! and all to be scal'd my foot, with 
taking down the pot one day, when my maid was 
gone abroad with her sweetheart ! 

Mop. You have a natural mark, before or behind, 
or somewhere about you, between your head and your 
heel! 

Mrs. D. That's more than I know ; but I'll have 
my husband look to-morrow morning ! 

Mop. You are pretty neat in your house ; somewhat 
nimble, witty, subtile, and a good bed-fellow ! 

Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I know not why; but I've been 
told so ! 

Mop. Double-minded ; often changing your resolu- 
tion ; prone to be angry, but quickly gone ; and now 
and then love a bit in a corner ! 

Mrs. D. 'Tis best eating when one's a-hungry. 

Mop. Your good days are Monday, Wednesday, 
Friday. Your evil, Tuesday and Thursday. Satur- 
day, indifferent. Your good fortune lies south and 
by north ; and therefore direct your affairs that 



72 THE CHEATS. 

way, aiid place your chamber door and bed to that 
side ! 

Mrs. D. Now, beshrew me, sir, but I'll observe your 
directions ! 

Mop. Once more your hand ! Your Mons Veneris 
is exalted. You love ! Ay, marry, that you do ! 

Mrs. D. Nay, now, sir ! what d'you mean 1 I love 
nothing but what all women do, — their husbands ! 

Mop. Two strange thwarting lines across the cin- 
guhim. You have a sweetheart or two besides your 
husband ! 

Mrs. D. Who ? I, sir 1 I'd have you know I'm 
no such ! I am as honest a woman as any in the 
parish ! I scorn your words ! 

Mop. No doubt of it. Let me see how your hand 

agrees with my globe. He is \he turns his glohe, 

and describes Bilboe] — Suppose I should name him 
to you ? B-I-L — Bilboe ! He belongs to the sword. 

Mrs. D. Oh, sir, have a care ! If my husband 
should hear you, he would run horn-mad, and knock 
both our brains out with his staff of authority ! 

Mop. To show you more of my art — You had a 
bastard before you were married ; and there is an 
old fellow that haunts you. — [He describes the Alder- 
man.'] — What say you ? 

Mrs. D. Oh, good sir! If you discover me I am 
undone ! 

Enter Boy. 

Boy. Sir, there are two gentlemen below desire to 
speak with you. 

Mop. I will wait on 'um presently. — [Exit Boy.] — 
Never fear me ! We are oblig'd, by our order of the 
Rosie Cross, to keep all confessions secret. 'Tis our 
Alderman ; that's more ! 

Mrs. J). If you should betray me, now 1 

Mop. I will not — I will not ! But hark you — 
upon condition still you give me a bit too ! 

[He coils''^' her. 

* Clasps. This stage direction is in the first ed. only. 



I 



THE CHEATS. 73 

Mrs. D. Oh, sir ! 'tis impossible ! Your wife's in 
t'other room ! The gentlemen stay for you below ! 
Somebody's coming up ! Mrs. Mopus ! Mrs. Mopus ! 

[She speaks as if she would not he heard. 
Mop. Hang her, jade ! 

[As Mopus kisses aiul ptdls Mr, 

Enter Jolly and Afterwit behind them. 

Aft. See ! see ! see ! I' faith, Mr. Doctor, is 
this your li\dng soberly, temperately, and enjoying 
it as if you had it not ? [Mrs. D. scuttles away. 

Jol. Is this your magisterium, elixar, or Eosycrucian 
pantarva '? No, sirrrah ! The father of this is the 
de\T[l ; the mother, his dam ; its brothers and sisters, 
the tribe of whore-hoppers ; the wind carries it from 
bawdy-house to bawdy-house, and the nurse thereof is 
a suburb-tantrum ! 

Mop. A plague o' this boy ! Undone for ever ! 

[Aside. 

Jol. Are you so hot 1 I'll cool you ! D'ye hear 
me ? Give the next porter half a cro^vn, and let him 
fetch Double Diligence, the constable ! I am mistaken, 
or the woman we found here was his wife ! 

Aft. Keep him in the mean time. 

Jol. I warrant you, he stirs not ! 

[Afterwit offers to go out. 

Mop. Gentlemen ! Good gentlemen ! As you are 
men, you undo me for ever ! Study wherein I may 
serve you ! 

Jol. Stay a little ! — [to Afterwit.] — Confess, and 
you shall see what we'll say to you ! Art not thou a 
damn'd cheating rogue % How hast thou the impudence 
to believe that anything but fools should come near, 
thee? 

Mop. Nor would I, by my good will, deal with 
other. Do you take the wise men, and give me the 
fools ; and then see who'll have the most practice ! 
There are but two sorts of people in the world — aut 
qui captant, aut qui captantur ; aut corvi qui lacerant, aut 
cadavera quce lacerantur. Which the great Albumazer has 



74 THE CHEATS. 

most significantly rendered by cheaters and cheatees. 
If it were not for fools, sir, how should knaves live 1 

Jol. An ingenious beginning ! If it hold, much 
may be said ! 

Mop, You are gentlemen, and, I see, understand. 
I'll be plain with you. Examine the world, and 
you'll find three-quarters of 't downright fools ; and 
for the rest, six parts in seven little besides band and 
beard ; and yet they make a great bustle in the world, 
and pass for shrewd men ! And can you blame me, 
then ? Did you ever hear a fishwife cry stinking 
mackarel 1 or a citizen, gumm'd velvet ? No ! The 
best in the town, though the worst in his shop ! Here 
we have a learned consultation, whether my lady may 
eat butter with her eggs, or have her posset turn'd 
with lemon or ale. Yonder another keeps a sputter, 
with his new, new, new ! the walley'd * mare, and 
the cropt flea-bitten ; a book with a hard title ; a 
new-found language in Ireland ; Turk and Pope ; 
the flesh -office ; my lady's dog ; the safest way of 
cutting of corns ; a bag of writings ; a house of 
the Bank-side ; the christening of another Turk ; 
a Franciscan proselyte, gentlemen-ushers and maid- 
servants ; dentifrices and lozenges. Another daubs 
you whole volumes with the difference between 
sufficient and efficacious. Another, whether the 
lining of Aaron's ephod were sky-colour'd or sea- 
green ; and hack and hew so desperately about their 
goats' wool, a man would bless himself to see such 
piles of elaborate nonsense ! And now, gentlemen, 
am I the only man in fault 1 The worst you can say 
is, the people have so little wit as to give me money ; 
and I am so mad as to pocket the injury ! Does this 
satisfy ? 

Aft. Eogue enough ! But is 't not possible to make 
thee honest ? 

Mop. Try me. I have a wife and three children — 

* Having eyes with an undue proportion of white. 

"Wall-eyed slave ! whither wouldst thou convey 

This growing image of thy fiend-like face ? — Shakespeake. 



THE CHEATS. 75 

the devil take my mfe and two of them, if ever I fail 
you ! 

Aft. A safe wish. But suppose I should order it 
so that a young lady come to you, could you so read 
her fortune as to make her marry me 1 You know 
how to play your part if you please ! 

Mop. And if I don't to your advantage, cut my 
throat ! 

Aft. Ye must know 't at last. I had as good tell 
him the person. [To Jolly. 

Jol. So you may ; and do ! 

Aft. Hold up thy hand ! To make thee honest, 
here's twenty pieces for thee ; and if thou dost thy 
business, I'll give thee two hundred more. What 
sayest thou % 

Mop. If I betray you, or do not my best, be seven 
years in killing me ! 

Aft. You know Alderman Whitebroth % 

Mop. Know him ! Why, I am his doctor ! 

Aft, 'Tis his daughter. You know your work 1 

Mop. And if you don't do 't, I'll run my country ! 
And now, gentlemen, you shall say I am honest. 
You observ'd the woman that was here when you 
came in ? 

Aft. Yes ; what of her ? 

Mop. Why, she is the Constable's wife, whom, to 
be short, the Alderman cuckolds. 

Jol. Hah ! Are you sure of it % 

Mop. By the help of this globe, I made her confess 
that the Alderman and one Bilboe play level de coile 
T\dth her. But (I may tell it you now) my wife gave 
me the first hint of 't. 

Jol. Hah! hah! Thou art honest! Bilboe 1 A 
Hector ! He lies in the Constable's house % 

Mop. The same ! Make what use of it you will ; 
I'll promise you to follow your directions. 

Aft. This was better than wish ! Come, we *11 lay 
our heads together, and you shall hear of us suddenly ! 



76 THE CHEATS. 



Scene hi. 

Enter Whitebroth, Eunter, Timothy, Beatrice, 
and Scruple, leading Mrs. Whitebroth. 

Wh. Was he so drunk, 6!jom say *? 

Tim. As ten thousand beggars ! 

WTi. So, so ! his money's jogging already ! Alas, 
Mr. Eunter, you hear what he says ? He was drunk ! 

Tim. Indeed, sir, I was never but half so bad in all 
my life, and then I was maudlin for a whole month 
after. 

Sc. And well it became you ! Compunction is good, 
Timothy. 

Pat. \Vhat say you, sir 1 Mr. Tyro is a civil, 
hopeful gentleman, and, I am sure, loves your 
daughter ! 

JVh. Nay, speak to her. There she is ! 

Bea. Love me ! 'Tis more than ever he told me 
yet ! 

Sc. He is a little modest. Ingenui vultits puer, 
ingenuique pudoris. Truly, I think you could not have 
chosen better. 

Bea. I chosen, sir ? You ^vill not persuade me, I 
hope, that I am in love ? If I am, I can assure you 
'tis not Avith him ! 

Mrs. Wh. How, child ! Not be rul'd by your 
father 1 Indeed, husband, it would be worth your 
while to have an eye upon her ! 

JVh. And your own too, good wife ! 

Sc. It should be both your care. You must provide 
a husband for her in time, or she will provide one 
herself. 

Wh. Come, leave this discourse to another time. 
You know we have business ! 

[Exeunt. Manet Timothy. 

Tim. What pity 'tis that this Monsieur le Coxcomb, 
Tyro, should have my young mistress ! A fool, that 
knows not the use of money, but to play at bob- 



THE CHEATS. 77 

farthing and span-counter. Afterwit has most right to 
her, for his estate's sake. Come, come, he is a gentle- 
man ; and if things hit right, thou shalt have her, 
boy ! [Exit 



Scene iv. 

Enter Bilboe (his arm in a scarf) and Titeke Tu at 
one door, Tyro at another. 

Ty. Alas, Major ! Your arm in a scarf ? 

Bil. Why, faith, a small badge of honour ! And 
I was drest up in haste, that I might not fail you. 

Ty. How was it, good Major ? 

Bil. Nothing, nothing, but a small brush about the 
wall, and I know not why ; but I fancied he might be 
the person that affronted you. To be short, he made 
me this pass in second, and I turn'd it so nimbly in 
tierce, that I made the sun shine clean through him ! 

T. T. Lightning ! by this hand, lightning ! Well ! 
[He claps Bilboe on the hack. 

Bil. Uh ! Have a care. Captain ! [Bilboe shrinks. 

T. T. Go thy ways ; and if thou takest a swing in 
quart* for 't, there hangs as brave a fellow as has hung 
there these forty years ! 

Ty. No murder, I hope, good Major 1 

Bil. Let him look to that ! I neither know nor 
care. Don't be troubled, boy. I have an arm yet 
left to fight thy battles ! 

Ty. I thank you, sir. Be pleased 

[He gives Bilboe money. 

Bil. sir ! Your love 

T. T. Ne'er doubt him. Squire. I'd as leif have 
him upon his stumps as twenty others upon no legs. 

Ty. Well, gentlemen, courage ! For my own part, I 
fear no flesh alive. No, upon my life and soul, don't 

*■ Continviing the fencing terms used by Bilboe, Titere Tu pur- 
poses this for a pun — ' quart,' or ' quarter,' also signifying an 
upright beam, meant here to express the gallows. 



78 THE CHEATS. 

I ! And I believe the same of you. You may fight — 
you are men of the sword ! But for me, a man o' th' 
law ! How say you, Captain ] 

T. T. By no means, Squire ! 

Bit. Say no more — He's dead ! 

Ty. Nay, good Major, have a care ! No more 
murder ! 

Bil. What you please. I'll use him the better for 
your sake. 

Enter Apterwit. 

Ty. See, Captain ! this is he ! 

T. T. Pray, sir, withdraw ; and hazard not yourself ! 
It may prove dangerous. \Exit Tyro. 

Aft. I have out-stay'd my time — \to himself.^ — With 
your favour, sir, what's o'clock 1 

T. T. Look upon the dial. — [Titere Tu turns up 
his hreech to him. Afterwit kicks him on the face 
thereof, takes away his stvord, and sets one foot on him. 

Aft. It wants a gnomon. [Bilboe steps in. 

Bil. Hold thy death-threatening hand ! He is a 
captain ! Let him die fairly ! You do well to pre- 
sume upon this scarf ! I ha'n't been wont to see such 
things and carry my hands in my pocket. 

Enter Jolly. 

But 

Jol. Thou art not mad, man 1 Hold ! 

Aft. The rogue has affronted me for speaking 
kindly to him. Be quick, and let me know the 
cause, or I'll nail thee to the ground for an example to 
others ! 

Bit. You have injur'd a worthy friend of ours, 
—Squire Tyro ! 

Aft. If that be all, rise ! There's your sword 1 

Bil. By no means, sir ! — [Bilboe claps between 'um.] 
— 'Tis against the law of arms to hold a sword 
against any man has had our life at his mercy. 

Jol. Major Bilboe, I think 1 

Bil. The same, sir. I should know that face too. 



THE CHEATS. 79 

Certain, sir, I have had the honour to be drunk in 
your company ere now ! 

Jol. And not unlikely ! We must not part with dry 
lips now. Afterwit — our friend — dost not remember 
we were merry together, at • 

Aft. Oh ! Your servant, sir ! {They salute. 

Jol. Come — all friends ! Well, Major, to renew our 
acquaintance, I have the best humour for you. 'Twill 
get you the pence, and all of us mirth ! 

Bil. And what may it be % 

Jol. Dismiss your friend to the next tavern, and 
I'll tell you ! [Bilboe whispers Titere Tu. 

T. T. Methinks I find a dislocation in my crupper. 
Your servant, gentlemen ! 

[Titere Tu goes limping off. 

Bil. Your servant, you rogue, your servant ! Now, 
sir, your commands 1 

Jol. To the point, then ! If you are honest to us, 
it may be worth you £500. If not, we are two to 
one, persons unstain'd in our reputation ; and if we 
deny, your affirmation will signify little ! Will you 
be trusty 1 

Bil. As steel, my boy ! What is 't 1 

Jol. You lie at Double Diligence, the Constable's 
house % 

Bil I do. What then ? 

Jol. And now and then, for diversion, with your 
landlady % 

Bil. No wounding of reputation, good gentlemen ! 
She's a pretty fly-boat ; two men won't sink her ! 

Aft. Nor three, I warrant you ! 

Bil. It may be not. Have you a mind, gentlemen "? 

Jol. Oh, no, sir ! I hope Alderman Whitebroth 
visits you pretty often ? 

Bil. For his rent, or so. 

Jol. Then we know more than you. He has a lick 
at her too. Will you assist us in a design 1 

Bil. By the faith of a soldate and a man of arms, 
I will! 

Aft. To engage you, then, here's twenty pieces for 



80 THE CHEATS. 

you. You must trepan him with the Constable's wife. 
If you find her shy, you may bring in her husband 
for a share. My neck on 't, you square him out of 
a £1000 at least ! He'll do anything rather than to 
have it known ! 

Bil. Do 't 1 and thank you too ! The bed-pad is 
the safest pad. Here's my hand ; I'll be honest to 
you! 

Jol. Well, see you are ; and let's hear from you 
again as soon as you can. In the mean time, do you 
two go to the Captain. You know whither I am 
going. Farewell ! [Exeunt severally. 



Scene v. 

Enter CiS, sola. 

Cis. That I could meet with Mr. Afterwit now ! 
He'll never get such another opportunity ! And at 
home 'tis vain to think it. 

Enter Jolly. 

Jol ! Cis ! Well met ! 'Tis my good girl ! 

[He calls and kisses her. 

Cis. Nay, pish ! stand away ! Come, do what you 
will, but don't you .rumple my handkercher ! 

Jol. Alas, poor thing ! I warrant, you much minded 
what I spake to you of last ! Have you said anything 
to your mistress about it 1 

Cis. Yes, that I have ! And she likes him well 
enough ; but she will never marry without her 
father's consent. She loves him well, but her father's 
estate better ! 

Jol. A good crafty wench ! Let us but secure her, 
I'll warrant the estate ! And if thou dost it, Cis, I'll 
promise thee a good portion, and a better husband ! 

Cis. What would you have me do ? 

Jol. Lose no opportunity of commending Mr. 
Afterwit to her, — a gentleman — a fine man — a 



THE CHEATS. 81 

handsome man — a proper man — and, you dare 
warrant, a good woman's man. And, hark you, you 
may tell her how Tyro had hir'd a couple of fellows 
to hector him, and that he came off iDravely — and 
all this for her ! 

Cis. Indeed, sir, I will not fail you in a tittle ! 

Jol But were 't not possible to get her to Mopus's, 
to have her fortune read 1 

Cis. Suppose I should 1 What then 1 

Jol. The work were done ! 

Cis. Then trouble not yourself. She made me 
steal out before, and is just following me to that pur- 
pose. But, hang him, he knows as much as my 
horse ! I had almost told her how Tim and I cheated 
him with some dead ale in a urinal instead of my 
master's water, but that Mr. Scruple and my old 
mistress have so cried him up. 

Jol. Have a care of stories ; they may spoil all. 
The fellow is ignorant enough, there's no doubt of 't. 
But yet, as long as they believe him knowing, mil be 
easily able to do my friend's business. Prithee, desire 
her to make him show her her husband's face in a 
glass. Doubt nothing, but follow your instructions. 
I must to Afterwit, and let him know whither his 
mistress is going. 

Cis. Well, trust to me ! Begone ! I hear her com- 
ing ! [Exit Jolly at oiie dam; 

Enter Beatrice at another. 

Bea. ! Cis ! I am stol'n out with much ado ! 
Shall we go 1 What dost think of him 1 

Cis. Truly, I take him for a huge cunning man. 
He has told all the maids of the parish the strangest 
things ; and, they say, can show one one's sweet- 
heart's face in a glass ! 

Bea. If he can do that Til believe him ! I am so 
strangely troubled with dreams, it passes 

Cis. And so have I been too ; and thought several 
times to tell you of a strange thing in our house, but 
that I was afraid you would laugh at me. 
F 



^^2 THE CHEATS. 

Bea. But tell me ! What was 't 1 

Cis. Why, last New- Year's Eve, when all the house 
were in bed, I swept up the hearth, and smooth'd the 
ashes, and next morning found the print of a wed- 
ding ring and a grave upon them. I am confident we 
shall have a wedding and a burial out of our house 
this year — my old master die, and my young mistress 
married ! 

Bea. Away, fool ! If I marry, I promise you it shall 
not be Tyro ! 'Tis such a piece of ginger bread ! 

Cis. Marry hang him ! 'Tis all the news that he 
hir'd a couple of fellows to murder Mr. Afterwit ; but 
he has paid 'um to the purpose. And they say the 
quarrel was about you ! 

Bea. Then in short time I shall be town talk, and 
work for knights adventurers. I should be sorry he 
were hurt — I would. But come 1 I long to hear what 
this fellow will tell me ! [Exeunt. 



Act v. — Scene l 
Enter Mopus, Jolly, and Afterwit. 

Jol. Make haste ! I left 'um coming. — [The hell 
.] — Here they are ! 

Mop. Then do you step into the next room— po 
Afterwit] — and when you hear me cry ' Jubeo,' take 
the small stool in your hand, and come in ; stand 
upon it behind her chair, and look upon the glass ; 
and be sure, when you have done, to take the stool 
along with you ! 

Jol. I must be gone ; I have appointed Eunter. 
Have you prepared the Alderman's dose '? 

Mop. 'Tis here ! — [He shows a small vial.] — And as 
soon as I have despatch'd you, I am resolv'd to visit 
him, and give him half a score drops of it in somewhat 
or other; but so qualifi'd, it shall not only distemper 
him, but do him no further hurt. A glass of stomach 



THE CHEATS. 83 

water will fetch him again while you say What's 

this? 

Enter BoY. 

Boy. Sir, there is a gentlewoman or two at door 
desire to speak with you. 

Mop. Desire them to walk in ! Here, here 1 this 
way 1 and you there ! 

[Exeunt Jolly, Apterwit, and Boy severalhj. 
So ; if this take, I shall save my credit, and get good 
money to boot ! 

Enter Beatrice and Cis. 

Madam ! your servant ! What service have you for 
mel 

Bea. I have heard my mother so talk of you, I 
could not be quiet till I came to you too. 

Mop. I am not wont to make my art common. 
But do you propose what you will, and I'll do my 
best to resolve you. 

Bea. Then, truly, sir, I have been extremely troubled 
with dreams, and would fain know what they mean. 

Mop. And shall, madam, if art can do 't. Dreams 
are certain motions or fictions of the soul, signifying 
some good or evil to come ; wherein, notwithstanding, 
we chiefly regard how the moon stands afi'ected. 
What were yours 1 

Bea. Methought my father was chosen Lord Mayor, 
and that Cis and I were pounding spices, to make an 
entertainment, and at last, methought, we fell together 
by the ears in our smock-sleeves. 

Mop. For the first, 'twas an ill sign — a sign of your 
father's death. For death is like the Mayor of the 
town within his o^vn corporation — subject to none, 
and has no companions. Then, as to your pounding 
of spices, that betokens matrimony; for the pestle 
represents the man, and the mortar the woman. 
Lastly, as to your fighting, infallibly the same ; and 
that the rather the persons being stript, as you say 
they were. Have you more ? 



84 



THE CHEATS. 



Bea. Yes, sir. Methought I was married to a man 
with a great jolt-head. 

Mop. A sign of dignity. If there had been a 
brazen face to 't, the better, for 'tis the first step 
to't. 

Bea. There were divers others, but I have forgot 
'em. Pray be pleas'd to give me some general hints, 
that I may the better observe 'um for the future ! 

Mop. Anything, good madam, to serve you. To 
dream of loss of eyes betokens help, for most men 
help the blind. If but one eye, but half what was 
expected. For a married woman to dream of behead- 
ing, loss of her husband ; to a maid, loss of her 
maidenhead. Of leeks and cheese, that she shall 
marry a Welshman. Of hanging, matrimony ; for 
they both go by one destiny. 

Bea. Pretty, indeed. Pray, sir, some more ! 

Mop. To dream of loss of fingers betokens want of 
employment, to a lawyer. Of broken pates, good 
luck, to chirurgeons. Of cutting high capers, hang- 
ing, to a thief Of a midwife, revealing of secrets. 
Of grasshoppers and crickets, more words than 
performance. Of a post and pillars, a Mayor and 
Alderman. Of a calf's head and pertinents, a fore- 
man and his fellows. Of being abed with a handsome 
lady, ill luck, because 'tis not true. Of having a 
true friend 

Bea. Ay ! what sign's that % 

Mop. A sign he's mistaken. 
Good madam, your hand ! 

Bea. Here ! And pray, cell me my fortune. 

Mop. I cannot make it better or worse ; but such as 
it is, you shall know presently. — [He pores on her 
hand.] — A fair table — the line of riches well extended 
— very large wheels of fortune. You will be a good 
housekeeper, rich, and fortunate. These lines 
betoken husbands. You will have, let me see, if 
your first husband dies before the mark's out of your 
mouth, a second ; and then, perhaps, a third. These 
interferings, children ; — you will have — some half a 



But enough of this ! 



THE CHEATS. 85 

dozen, more or less. Yet once again — pray, let me 
see how your hand agrees with my globe ! 

[He steps to the table and turns his book and globe. 

Bea. What think'st thou of him, Cis 1 

Cis. No doubt but it is all true. They say he can 
show one's sweetheart's face in a glass. Good madam, 
remember to try him ! 

Mop. You shall have a husband in a very short 
time. As to his person, he is, etc. — [He describes 
Afterwit.] — He has some incumbrances upon his 
estate at present, but shall recover them all, and be 
very happy, fortunate, and honourable. 

Bea. But does he love me '? 

Mop. I am sure he does. And mthout him, you'll 
be very unhappy. He is a most excellent person. 
He receives his knowledge from Mercury in Virgo. 
His completeness of body from Caput Draconis in 
Gemini. Saturn and Venus, in Libra, direct him to 
the light of nature. Fortuna major and Populus, 
figures of geomancy, give him health, and Puella 
befriends him. Mars, in Cancer, is his enemy ; 
Jupiter, in Capricorn, somewhat uncertain ; and two 
ideas, of geomancy conspire against him. But he 
shall receive treasures from the sun and jewels from 
the moon ; and his guardian angel shall defend him, 
and make the spiteful dragon bite his tail in Sagitarius, 
because he cannot be reveng'd of him. 

Bea. But is 't not possible to see this excellent 
person 1 

Mop. 'Tis a thing I rarely do — I seldom practise 
beyond the stars ; but if you'll promise me to sit quiet, 
and not talk it abroad, I will, for once, show you the 
height of art. 

Bea. Well, sir, I promise. But pray, no noise ! 

Mop. No ; he shall rise with music. Boy 1 

Enter Boy. 

My glass, and the enchanted chair ! 

[Exit Boy. Mopus draws a circle. 
Bea. Oh, good sir, have a care 1 



86 THE CHEATS. 

Mojp. Be still ! The spirit knows my meaning, and 
I dare not baulk him. Fear not ; you are as safe as 
if you were in your father's house. 

Enter Boy, with a glass and a groaning chair. 

Here, madam, sit down ; and you, sweetheart, at 
your mistress's feet. Sirrah ! — \IIe speaks aside to the 
Boy.] — -Take your lute, and when you see the gentle- 
man preparing to come in, play a lesson or two. — 
[Exit Boy.] — Now, madam, sit still, and fear nothing ! 
[He takes his hook, waves his rod, and reads. 

"MAZOL TOB. 

"Bombomachides Cluninstaridysarchides, qui prsepo- 
situs es Utopise, et terram incognitam solus delineasti 
- — Oonjuro, et confirmo te, et super te, nihilum 
potens ! per nomen stellse, quge est sine nomine — 
per solstitium solis, et lunse dodecatimarion ; per 
Tiberii spintrium, et Claudii apocolocyntheosin ; per 
cingulum Veneris, et garragantue ravpov ; per 
alpha, beta, gamma, delta, coj)h, resch, schin, 
tau — per omnia predicta, et alia ubicunque quae 
nunquam fuerunt, nee usquam futura sunt. Conjuro 
super te Bombomachides (occulta qualitas, et tamen 
magne) quod relictis agris Gurgustidoniis, et Gog- 
magogorum antiquissima sede, in instanti venias, pro 
me labores, et perimpleas omnem petitionem hujus 
dominse, juxta velle, et votum suum. Yeni ! Veni ! 
Veni ! Per omnia predicta — jubeo — veni !" 

[The lute plays. Enter Aeterwit ; looks over her chair, 
as directed, and after a little time exit. Beatrice 
and Cis rise, and look behind the chair. 

Now, madam, you have seen the ne plus ultra of art ! 
And if I might advise you, I would have you comply 
with your destiny ; without it, you will be miserable. 

Bea. And perhaps with it. Do you know the 
gentleman ? 

Mop. I never saw him in my life till now ; but as I 
beheld him in the glass, methought he had a pro- 



THE CHEATS. 87 

mising aspect, and agreed in everything with what 
I have told you. Do you know the face 1 

Bea. Yes. And if my father were consenting to 't, 
it should be the first thing I would. 

Mop. I can but wish you well. Yet one thing I'll 
do — 'tis yet in my power. If you have no mind to 
him, avoid seeing him before you have slept ; and let 
me know it before sunrising to-morrow, and I may 
prevent it. If otherwise, 'tis past the art of man. 

Bea. I thank you, sir ! — [She gives him money.] — ! 
Cis, what shall I do ? Is there no back way 1 If I 
can but miss him now, I'm well enough ! 

Cis. Have a good heart, madam ! What must be 
will be. 

Mop. You had best let my boy conduct you. Boy ! 

Enter Boy. 

You know the back way to the Alderman's 1 Show it 
this lady, and wait on her as far as she pleases to 
command you. [Exeunt Beatrice, Cis, and Boy. 

Your servant ! So, so ! things go as they should ! 
Where are you, sir 1 

Enter Afterwit. 

Your work's as good as done. She's gone the back 
way ; you will easily get before her upon the turn of 
the street. Now's your opportunity ! Make haste 
and meet her, and she can't refuse you. 

Aft. 'Twas well contrived ! Your servant ! 

[Exeunt. 

Scene ii. 

Enter Bilboe and Mrs. Double Diligence. 

Bit. I thought what you were ! Is this your going 
to Eepetition ^ I'll tell my landlord ! 

Mrs. D. Indeed I could not help it — I could never 
be rid of him ! But I am sure I always loved you 
best. I hope you will not undo a woman ! 



88 THE CHEATS. 

Bil. Nay, nay ! that's notlimg to me. I am \ 

resolv'd, unless you engage to do one thing. 

Mrs. D. Anything, good Mr. Bilboe, that I can. 
What is 't ? 

Bil. When will the Alderman be here 1 

Mrs. D. At night, after the watch is set. What 
then? 

Bil. Why, you must join with me to trepan him. 
It may be worth us £1000 ! 

Mrs. D. 'Tis impossible ! No one will believe him 
to be such a man. 

Bil. They'll never know it. He'll be hang'd ere 
he'll let the business come upon the stage. 

Mrs. D. I'll never yield to it ! You shall have what 
money you will ! 

Bil. Hang money ! — fly brass ! — the devil's a tinker ! 

Enter Double Diligence. 

Honest landlord ! I see you are for the watch. 
Twenty to one but I beat up your quarters. I'll make 
you run, i'faith ! 

D. D. Yes — after you, Major ; I have done it forty 
times ! 

Bil. Why, how now, . man 1 melancholy ? Thou 
lookest as if thy head were full of accounts ! 

D. D. And, truly, you are right. I was just consider- 
ing how to patch up my account with Mr. Alderman. 
Indeed he ties me to hard meat. I cannot take a rat 
but he makes me account to him for half profits ; and 
yet I allow him as good as £40 a year for the keep- 
ing of one poor gate. Would I were once overseer of 
the poor, or churchwarden — there were somewhat to 
be got by that ! I'm sure this will hardly keep life 
and soul together. 

Bil. Hang care ! I'll tell thee what — thou hast 
the honestest woman to thy wife this day in the 
parish. Poor soul, how she's been plagued by this 
Alderman ! 

Mrs. D. Nay, Major ! what d'you mean 1 — \Slie 
pulls him hy the elbow.] — You won't, I hope, Major ! 



THE CHEATS. 89 

Bil She was ashamed to tell you herself, and would 
not be quiet till I had promised to do it. This old 
goat is perpetually soliciting her — would one think 
it 1 Troth, I should have guest him fuller of Mercury 
than Venus ; but a man may be deceived. 

D. D. How ! The Alderman 1 See what 'tis to 
have an honest woman to one's wife. I warrant you, 
had she been right, as they say, she had never discover'd 
it. Now, my dear chick, how I love thee ! 

Bil. Leave your slobbering, and consider what to 
do. My advice is, that we trepan him ; the thief is 
rich, and will bleed well. 

D. D. That would be somewhat ! But how is 't 
to be done ? 

Bil. He will be here by that time the watch is set. 
The Captain and I will do 't. 

D. D. If we could get a good round sum between 
us, 'twould do no hurt. You may compound with the 
Captain for a small matter. 

Bil. Let me alone with him ! He's hard at hand ! 
I'll fetch him ! Don't you be out of the way ! 

[Exit BiLBOE. 

D. D. Indeed, wife, this is a providence, and may 
do us good 1 Grant we may make a right use of 't. 

Enter Whitebroth. 

JVli. Not gone yet ! I must rattle '" him. 

[Aside to himself. 

D. D. Save your good worship, sir ! 

WTi. Alas, Mr. Double Diligence, that you should 
be thus negligent of the peace of the kingdom ! 
Don't you know there are a number of dangerous 
people abroad, and your watch not set yet 1 Now, 
truly, but you are to blame ; and I could find in my 
heart to have you complain'd of 

D. D. I was just going — your worship sees I am 
ready ! 

JVh. Pray keep your watch together, and walk your 
round in person — you cannot be too secure. Here ! 

* Thrash. 



90 



THE CHEATS. 



Here's somewhat for your watch to drink. I have 
given 'em nothing a great while. 

D. D. 'Tis a fourpence-halfpenny, sir. Will your 
worship be pleased to have the odd halfpenny again 1 

JVh. No, no ! No matter ! — let it go for a crust. 

D. D. We thank your worship. 

[Exit Double Diligence. 

JVh. I just met my doctor, and he has given me the 
rarest cordial — methinks I am so flippant ! Now, my 
little mouse ! How do you ? Shall we walk in 1 

Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I am somewhat ill. 

[He calls her. 

Wh. Prithee leave these excuses ! Thou knowest I 
love thee. [Bilboe and Titere tu peep in. 

Bil. See, Captain ! see ! 

T. T. Ah ! the old rogue ! 

Wh. Come, come ! — you must ! I've had no rent 
a good while ! 

Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, we've a hard bargain of 't. I 
hope your worship will consider us against next 
quarter. 

Wh. Why — you pay me no money ! You know 
I take it out, as they say. 

Mrs. D. Ay, but Mr. Scruple's very hard upon my 
husband, and won't believe but he has a double lease. 

Wh. I'll order that hereafter. Prithee come ! — 
the cuckold is secure. Good faith, you shall ! 

Mrs. D. I cannot — nor will I ! Pray unhand me ! 

[They struggle. 

Enter Bilboe and Titere Tu, with their swords drawn. 

Bil. How's this *? My landlady ! Cuckold my 
honest landlord ! Kill him ! kill him ! 

[They both lay at him, with the flat of their swords. 
Wh. Good gentlemen ! spare my life ! Oh — oh ! 
T. T. Hold ! hold !— better geld him ! 
Bil. Agreed ! agreed ! 

[Mrs. Double Diligence runs in. 
Wli. Oh ! good gentlemen, 'twill break my wife's 
heart ! Good gentlemen, I am an Alderman ! 



THE CHEATS. 91 

Bil Thou an Alderman'? I'll undertake lie stole^ 
this chain ! Gi' me 't ! — [BiLBOE takes it off aiid loocketb' 
it]—TYL find out the truth. 

T. T. Come, brother ! — Uncase ! uncase ! 
\Tliey strip Mm to his canvas doublet and satin skirts. 

Enter Double Diligence. 

D. D. I had forgot my night-cap ! How now ? 
what's here 1 Stand ! I require you, in their 
majesties' name, to keep the peace ! Stand ! "V\^at 
are you 1 Thieves ! thieves ! Down with 'em, Mr. 
Alderman ! Alas, good sir, what makes your worship 
in this condition ? 

Bil. Landlord, I am confident this is no Alderman. 
The rogue has serv'd my landlady ! — A man would not 
serve a dog so ! 

. D. D. How 1 Stick a bull's feather in my cap ! — 
make me a knight o' the forked order ! Is this true, 
Mr. Alderman % is this true 1 

Wli. Failings, brother Diligence, faihngs ! Pray, let 
the business be ended between ourselves., and I will 
patiently submit to a church rebuke. 

D.^ D. One good action is worth two rebukes and 
three chastisements. Pray, gentlemen, keep him here 
till I fetch the watch. I will have it recorded, to my 
own honour, the example of all succeeding Constables, 
and terror of Justices — that a Constable once in his 
time laid a Justice of peace by the heels. I'll be with 
you instantly . 

[He offers to go out, Whitebroth stojjs him. 

Wli. Good neighbour, this will be as great a 
scandal to our fellowship as that abomination of the 
elder's maid in Bell Yard. 

Bil. Hold, landlord ! Is he an Alderman in earnest ? 

D. D. Yes — yes ! But I'll Alderman him ! 

[BiLBOE holds him.. 

Bil. By no means ! — Stay ! The old gentleman 
may take cold — pray, sir, put on your clothes ! 
'Twas well I asked the question — I would not have 
it go further for five thousand pounds. An Alderman ! 



92 THE CHEATS. 

Wh. Thank you, good sir! Pray take up the 
"business. 

Bil. Come, landlord ! Hang 't — 'tis done, and can't 
be help'd. He shall give you a thousand pounds. 

D. D. A thousand pounds 1 — Out upon 't ! 

Wh. A thousand pounds, sir ! Alas, I thought ten 
pounds or so ! 

Bil. Howl — ten pounds ! Send we make him accept 
a thousand pounds ! 'Tis a foul business — the more 
you stir, the worse 'twill be. Will you refer 't me 1 
I hope to deserve a hundred pounds of you myself. 

JFh. What you will ; but pray beat it as low as you 
can. 

Bil. Come, landlord ! what say you ? The gentle- 
man's willing to give yOu a thousand pounds. 

Wh. Oh ! undone ! — I'm a poor man ! 

D. D. Tell me of a thousand pounds % 

T. T. Nay, now, Mr. Constable, you're unreason- 
able. 

D. D. Well, then, let him throw in the lease of my 
house too, and for your sake, Major, I'll do 't. 

Bil. He shall — he shall ! Burn it, 'tis but an old 
house — giv't him. Troth, I was afraid we should not 
have got him so low. You heard what he said — 'twas 
for my sake, too. I hope you'll consider it. 

Wh. Well, if it must be so, no more words of 't. 
I'll send you a thousand pounds to-morrow, and convey 
over the house when you please. Oh — oh ! — an 
undone man 1 

Bil. In the meantime, a bond, as you use to say, 
for mortality's sake, would do no hurt. 

Wh. What you will — I must obey. 

Bil: Be not troubled. The flesh was good flesh, 
and worth the money. 

Wh. But the sauce, though, was devilish dear. 

Bil. Hark you, landlord ! Eun to your neighbour 
Squeeze, the scrivener, for a couple of blank bonds. 
Make haste ! And when the work's done we'll drink 
abundantly, and remember the founder. 

D. D. Truly, I like it well — exceedingly well. It 



THE CHEATS. 93 

is good to be thankful. Pray, take the Alderman in, 
and I'll be with you instantly. [Exeunt severally. 



Scene hi. 
Enter Afterwit, Beatrice, and Cis. 

Aft. Now, you see, madam, to how little purpose 
we cross our stars. 

Bea. Had you but miss'd me now, 
I should have ventur'd that, and perhaps stav'd 
That misery which always follows rashness. 

Aft. Trust me ! I warrant you, things will go right. 
Now for a small hedge-priest to make the knot ; 
Well tie it faster as we've better leisure. 

Enter Kunter and Jolly. 

Keep back a little — I would not have them see us 
yet. [Exeunt Afterwit and Beatrice. 

Bu. Indeed I won't! You have been large to me 
already. [Jolly would press money upon him. 

You must excuse me. 

Jol. Upon one condition I may. 

Ru. What's that, good sir ? 

Jol. That you will give me leave to put it in the 
diurnal. 

Ru. I must confess, I should be loth to be the 
author of so ill a precedent. But if I should take it, 
how shall I be able to serve your friend % 

Jol. I have told you. 

Ru. Hah ! But such an opportunity will never 
happen. 

Jol. I am certainly inform'd he is now upon 't. For 
being taken very ill of a sudden, he has resolved to 
publish that draught which you made for him, and 
has lain in your hands ever since his last sickness. 
Now, instead of that, let him seal and deliver this 
settlement upon my friend, in consideration of 
marriage with his daughter, and the work's done. 



94 THE CHEATS. 

Besides, if he should discover it, I have him so sure 
upon other accounts he dares not mutter. 

[EuNTER ^peruses the deed. 

Bu. You are a notable gentleman. You have done 
extreme prudently in leaving a blank for the first 
words, " This indenture," etc., and that the parchment is 
plain at top. I will fill it up with ^'In nomine domini," 
for fear some one should look over my shoulder while 
it is doing ; when once 'tis over 'tis easy indenting it, 
and scraping out "/«■ nomine domini," and instead 
thereof puting in, " This indenture made," etc. Trust 
me with it. 

Jol. Shall my friend depend upon you 1 

Bu. D'you think me a knave ^ A word's enough. 
Yet, if you would be rul'd by me, I would advise you 
to engage Mr. Scruple in the business ; he will be able 
to do much in 't. 

Jol. Will a parsonage of £300 a year do 't 1 If it 
will, my friend has such a one newly fall'n, and giv'n 
me order, as I see occasion, to present it him. But 
do you think he \vill conform 1 

Bu. I warrant you he does both. Leave it to me 
to make him. I must confess he has been somewhat 
violent heretofore ; but of late I can assure you very 
instrumental. 

Enter Scruple. 

Here he comes. Pray, leave us not ; there will be 
little said but what you may be privy to. Save you, 
Mr. Scruple. 

Sc. And your worship too. I have been looking 
you everywhere. Mr. Alderman presents you with 
that health he wants himself, and desires you to come 
to him, and bring with you that draught of his will 
which was engross'd when he was last sick. I left that 
learned artist Dr. Mopus with liim, who shakes his 
head, and wonders at this sudden alteration. He 
says they drank a glass of ale together but few hours 
before ; but, truly, now he doubts him. 

Bu. Why ! what's the matter 1 



THE CHEATS. 95 

Sc. The doctor had a hard word for 't, but I have 
quite forgot it. He is taken with a strange scouring 
and vomiting — the doctor knows not what to make of 
him — death's in's face. 

EiL Alas, poor gentleman ! I'll wait on him imme- 
diately. That things should fall so cross ! His 
daughter is just married. 

Sc. How ! married 1 I am sure he knows nothing 
of it, for his intention of sending for you was, that 
he might so dispose his estate that the Court of Alder- 
men might not have the fingering of it. 

Bu. It can't be helpt — 'tis done. But hark you ! 
'tis to a worthy gentleman, and one that has so great 
an esteem for you, that having a parsonage of £300 a 
year in his gift, and now void, he is resolved to dis- 
pose it to no one till you have refused it. 

Jol. This is true, I can assure you, sir ; and by me 
has made the offer to this gentleman in your behalf, 
who, I think, knows me too well to doubt the truth 
oft. 

Eu. Indeed I do. I'll take care your presentation 
shall be dispatched out of hand. But — you must 
conform, and sign with the cross. 

Sc: Well — well ! The sign of the Cross or the sign 
of the Blue Boar shall break no squares. £300 a 
year ! I do assure you, a worthy gentleman ! 

Enter Ajfterwit, Beatrice, and Cis. 

Jol. He comes himself, and his fair bride. Madam ! 
^AUjoy! 

Bea. Of what "? Will you persuade me into 't 1 

Sc. Indeed, Mrs. Beatrice, give you much joy. In 
truth, a very worthy gentleman. I am sorry it was 
not my good fortune to have yok'd you together. 

Aft. Perhaps it may not be too late yet. You 
know wise men always marry their daughters both 
ways. It is not impossible but that Mr. Alderman 
and myself may be made friends — his daughter is still 
,^live. How says my dear 'i 

Bea. Nay, pish ! You're such a man ! 



96 THE CHEATS. 

Aft I shall be glad, sir, to be better known to you, 
and hope my friend has made you a small present 
from me. Had it been better, your worth deserves 
it. 

Sc. Alas ! sweet sir ! I thank your love — I have 
accepted that already. You are an obliging person. 

Ru. Come, madam ! you're melancholy ! Be cheery ! 
All will do well. Mr. Scruple, a word — I think it 
were not amiss if you went before, and let him know 
I am coming. 

Sc. With all my heart. Have you anything further 
wherein I may serve this worthy person and his 
lady? 

Ru. Why, truly, yes. You will do well to keep 
him in the same mind of making his will. Since the 
young couple are together, and 'tis too late now to 
part them, we must do something to secure them an 
estate. 

Sc. You say well ; and I will join with you in any- 
thing, provided always you carry it prudently, for fear 
of scandal. A blot is no blot till it be hit.* 

Ru. You must have a care that no one be in the 
room but ourselves — not so much as his wife. 

Sc. By no means. If they should, I will cause 'em to 
withdraw, upon pretence of giving him some ghostly 
counsel, or the like. Farewell ! You'll find me there. 

Ru. Not a word ! Make haste, and be sure to 
break the marriage to the good woman before the 
Alderman comes to know it. Watch your time ! 

Sc. I warrant you ! [Exit Scruple. 

Ru. Madam, your father has sent for me, and I must 
leave you for the present ; but you shall be sure to 
hear from me suddenly. In the meantime, if you 
please to repose yourselves at my house, you shall be 
welcome. You cannot be safer nor nearer if any 
occasion should be. 

Omnes. With all our hearts ! [Exeunt 

* Eef erring to a movement in the game of backgammon. 



the cheats. 97 

Scene iv. 

Enter Scruple, discoursing to himself. 

Sc. Three hundred pounds a year, and conform t A 
fair opportunity ; and if I slip it, may I never have 
another ! But hark you, Mr. Scruple, you must sub- 
scribe ! Well, and I will do 't 1 But what will the 
brethren say ? How will the sisters take it, when it 
shall be told 'um, Vir gregis ipse caper cle erraveratf 
Why, 'twas an act of my hand, not an act of my 
heart ! But stay ! — what needs this ] Has not the 
direction of the intention a faculty to null promises ] 
I take it it has. What say the Casuists ? If a man 
promises, and had no intention to perform when he 
made it, he is not oblig'd, unless there be an oath or 
contract in the case ; for, when a man says simply I 
will do thus or thus, it shall be conceived he meant 
if his mind did not alter, for otherwise were to de- 
prive him of his natural Kberty. But there is an oath 
in the case, friend Scruple, there is an oath I How 
will you do, now 1 Well, suppose there be two ! I 
take it the case has been determin'd long since. I 
may take it pro forma, by a pre\dous protestation, 
nevertheless that it shall not be prejudicial to me in 
anything that I shall act to the contrary hereafter. 
If not, our brethren are clear in the point. Equivo- 
cation, in cases of necessity, may be lawful. 'Tis a 
pki fraus ! I'm sure, at worst, it is a probable opi- 
nion ; and all probable opinions are equally safe in 
themselves. But hold ye, brother ! Are not oaths 
to be taken according to the meaning of the exactor 
of the oath 1 Perhaps they are. AVhat then ? Sup- 
pose I bring a probable opinion for the meaning of 
the taker. The extremes are wide ; but I have found 
an expedient, — and yet not mine, but our brethren's 
still. The swearer is not bound to the meaning of 
the prescriber of the oath, or his own meaning. How, 
then 1 Sweetly I — to the reality of the thing sworn. 
G 



98 



THE CHEATS. 



I think the hair is split ! But who shall be judge of 
that 1 Of that hereafter. In the mean time, here is 
£300 a year, and a goodly house upon 't ! I will 
conform, reform, transform, perform, deform, inform, 
any form ! Form — form — 'tis but one syllable, and 
may be swallowed ! 

Unter Mrs. Whitebroth and Mrs. Mopus. 

Mrs. JVh. Now, bless the good man ! what's that 
he says % Form — form ! Marry, I hope you don't 
intend to conform ? 

Sc. Form is a good word — a very good word ! 
Forma dat esse rei I And without it, sister of mine, 
you could be neither seen, felt, heard, nor under- 
stood ! 

Mrs. Mop. Now, goodness defend him! — In the 
highway to Egypt again ! 

Sc. Mistake me not ; I am neither for highways nor 
high places ! But- 

Mrs. }Vh. But what 1 I hope you are not in earnest. 
Will you forsake the good old cause % 

Mrs. Mop. Mr. Scruple spew up the Holy Covenants 

>S'c. It forsook me, not I it. 

Mrs. JVh. What will the vile cavalier say 1 

Mrs. Mop. How will the despisers of the brethren 
bristle ? 

Mrs. TVh. How will the old enemy erect himseK? 

Mrs. Mop. And the holy sisters be humbled 1 

Mrs. Wh. Who shall carry on the great work ? 

Mrs. Mop. Or perfect that which you have begun ? 

Mrs. Wh. Mr. Scruple transmogrify ? 

Mrs. Mop. Ah, no ! [Both of thera — Hui ! 

Sc. You say right ; you are my workmanship ! I 
have been working you these twenty years, and you 
are wrought ! But alas 1 — I speak not this to you — 
there are a number of dissenting brethren, and I have 
tried 'em this way and that way and t'other way, and, 
to say truth, every way, but never the nearer; and 
therefore I'm ev'n resolv'd to try what the old way 
will do. 



THE CHEATS. 99 

Mrs. Wh. Ah, Mr. Scruple, do you know what you 
say % The old way ! 

Mrs. Mop. The old Avhore ! [Both — Hui ! 

Sc. Yes ; the old way, though no old whore ! 
Wherein, notwithstanding, I do no more than what- 
ever was, is now, and ever will be. Mark what I say, 
and observe it. Our brother Fox, that had so Httle 
wit as to write his Booh of Martyrs, had yet enough 
to keep himself from being one of the number ! 

Mrs. Wh. Ah ! what will become of the flock ? 

Mrs. Mop. And the httle lambs — how shall they 
play? 

Mrs. Wh. Who shall destroy the chickens of the 
wolf? 

Mrs. Mop. And break the leviathan's eggs i' the 
shell ? 

Sc. Come, sisters of mine, you live on the bUnd side 
of the world ! I find the cause and its interest de- 
serted by most people, unless it be some few that, 
having found how sweet a thing it is to head a faction, 
make use of us, as the monkey did of the cat's paw, to 
scrape the nuts out of the fire ! I need say no more, 
unless it be that I have a fair opportunity of £300 a 
year offer'd me. 

Mrs. Wh. Ay, do — do ! and see who'll repent it first. 
Never expect more Friday night suppers ! 

Mrs. Mop. Nor the sweet society of brethren and 
sisters ! 

Mrs. Wh. What fellowship is there in stockfish and 
oil? 

Mrs. Mop. Or, instead of jellies, to be swill' d with 
frummetry ?* 

Mrs. Wh. To exchange your venison for red her- 
rings and mustard ? 

Mrs. Mop. And virgin pullets for ling and haber- 
dine ?t [Scruple slmhes his head, and sighs — Huh ! 

Mrs. Wh. Who will be gainers now ? 

* Hulled wheat boiled in milk, and seasoned with cinnamon 
and sugar, 
t Salted cod. 



100 THE CHEATS. 

Mrs. Mop. Or whose the loss when this happens ? 

3frs. Wli. When the benevolence shall dwindle to 
an Easter penny ? 

Mrs. Mop. And purifying dinners into crack'd 
groats ? 

Mrs. Wli. "When you're at charge of a gown for 
Sundays and holidays 1 

Mrs. Mop. And the cassock comes out of your own 
pocket ? 

Mrs. JFh. \Mien the boys cry after you it grows 
too fast ? 

Mrs. Mop. And the knot of your surcingle sits in the 
wrong place ? [Again, hut louder — Huh — hu ! 

Mrs. JFh. And will you, then, leaA^e us 1 Let not 
£300 a year be anything in the case ; we will allow 
you four ! Pray consider ! Did we ever forsake you ? 
What did you lose by your last imprisonment "?* 

Sc. Now cannot I forbear, but I must accept your 
£400 a year. Let a man strive never so much against 
it, natural affection will return upon him. Comfort 
yourselves — that is to say, be comforted ; I will not 
forsake you ! Conchmim est contra, etc. I will not 
conform ; nay, verily, I will not ! 

Mrs. JFh. Ah, Mr. Scruple ! 

[They both hang on Mm. Cough within. 

Sc. Hark I I hear the Alderman ! Eun in — run in ! 
I'll follow you instantly ! 

[Exeunt Mrs. Whitebroth and Mrs. Mopus. 
So, now 'tis £400 a year, and not conform ! The 
women are good comfortable women, and I ought not 
in conscience to leave 'em. But hear me, brother ! 
what will you do with your new parsonage 1 Why, I 
will get some or other instituted and inducted into 't, 
to save a lapse, and take a bond of £500 of him to 
resign at six months ; which he ^vill forfeit, of course, 
as not doubting but to be reliev'd against it as 

* Instead of this last inquiry, tlie first, second, and third 
editions have : ' What have you lost by throwing youi'self on 
yoiir friends? If the worst come to the worst, we will forsake 
our carnal husbands and carnal children, and march off to New 
England together. ' 



THE CHEATS. 101 

simoniacal. So, there's £500 got too ! He's gone 
every way — at common law, 'tis his own bond; in 
equity, he might have resign' d. But why so fast, 
friend Scruple ? Had not you as good sell it outright 
to avoid dispute ? I cannot tell. But now, I remem- 
ber me, the Casuists take a notable difference — that 
is to say, between money given {pro valore henefidi) as 
the full price, and {tanquam motivum ad resignandum) 
for your good will or so. The first, they generally 
agree to be simony ; but for the latter, they leave it 
as a controverted point, positively denied by very few 
but such as have money to give. 

Enter Whitebroth led hy Mopijs and Timothy. 
Whitebroth coughs. 

Alas, good sir, how does your worship ? Pray, sir, 
how do you like him '? 

Mop. Troth, but ill ; I'm half afraid of him ! 

Wh. Who's that? Mr. Scruple ? 

Sc. Yes, sir. How do you ? 

Wh. Uh — uh — very ill ! Is the Doctor coming ? 

Sc. He'll be here immediately. Poor man ! he was 
half distracted when I brought him the news. 

Enter Eunter. 

He's come ! How he sweats with haste ! 

Ru. My dear friend, how do you 1 

Wh. Oh, oh!— ill, ill !— uh, uh, uh ! Have you 
brought my old will with you ? Let me see 't ! Uh 
— ^uh — uh ! 

Ru. Yes, sir ; here 'tis ! 

[Eunter gives it Whitebroth ; he peruses it. 

Sc. Indeed, sir, 'tis piously and discreetly done to 
settle affairs, so that there may be no wrangling in 
case you should do otherwise than well. 

Mop. I wonder my boy comes not. I have sent 
him for a rosicrucian preparation has fetcht a man 
again after he has been dead a day and half ! I hope 
it may do good. However, for fear of the worst, you 
do well to settle your estate ; it may ease your head. 



102 



THE CHEATS. 



Wh. Uh — uh — iih ! Here, Doctor, put some wax 
to 't ! Set tlie table nearer, and give me my seal ! 

[EuNTER, in ^putting on the wax, puts the change upon 
him ; he signs and seals the false deed, and coughs all the 
while. 

Ru. Sir, you are weak ! Do you deliver this as 
your act and deed ? 

}Fh. Yes, I do ! Pray, gentlemen, be witnesses 
to it ! 

Enter Boy. They tvitness it. 

Mop. Ob, are you come at last 1 Here, sir — 
here's the most sovereign cordial in all the world ! 
I was seven years in making one poor pint and a half 
oft! 

TFh. I thank you, sir. — [He drinks.] — Uh — ^uh ! It 
warms me strangely ! Uh ! — uh ! 

Mop. Pray, forbear coughing ; you are weak ! How 
do you feel yourself now 1 

Wh. I cannot tell ; but methinks it does me good. 

Mop. I see by this sudden operation 'twill do the 
work ! You were best to walk in, and rest yourself 
on your couch awhile before the fire ! 

Ru. I must run home a little upon some urgent 
occasions, but will see you again presently. 

[Exeunt severally. 



Scene v. 

Enter Double Diligence, and his wife, Bilboe, 
Titere Tu — the men drunk. 



Bil. Why, Captain !— What ! all a mort 1 

T. T. Faith I was contemplating upon the pence. 

Bil. And thou shalt have 'em, boy. See here, my 
bully ! — [He pulls out Whitebroth's chain.'] — Here's 
that will fetch 'em. 

Mrs. D. Dear Major, give it me ! 

Bil. Thou shalt have anything, my jo ! Captain, 



THE CHEATS. 103 

courage ! we'll be merry to-night, and have a wedding, 
though 't be but a Westminster one. 

T. T. What you will. 

D. D. Well said, Major. Ah, for a fiddle now ! 
Odds nigs ! 

Bil. I hate those Puritan oaths. If thou must 
swear, swear like a man of office ! 

D. D. The old boy still. Now could I caper 
through the moon ! Hey, toss ! Hang one fiddle, we'll 
have a whole kennel ! Come, you jade, dance ! 

Mrs. D. Alas, Major ! How pitifully my husband 
is cut ! He'll be so sick to-morrow morning. 

Bil. Yes, faith ; he has got a rattle as big as a 
drum. 

D. D. Major ! a word ! Do you think my wife's a 
whore 1 

Bil. Such another word, and, by all the bones of 
my back 

D. D. Nay, good Major ! I was once a little jealous, 
till she told you of the Alderman ; but now, I dare 
trust her to Lecture by herself. 

Mrs. D. What's that you say to me ? 

Enter Afterwit, Beatrice, Jolly, Eunter, and 

CIS. 

D. D. Stand ! Who comes there 1 Knock 'em 
down ! What are you ? I am the Constable ! 

Aft. The fellow's mad. 

Mrs. D. No, sir ! He's a little overtaken, as they say. 

D. D. Stand off" ! down with 'em ! Stand ! Treason ! 
I command you to apprehend one another. 

Jol. Many a good time has this fellow's head been 
broken to keep the peace whole. Prithee take him 
away. 

Bil. Landlord, they're friends. 

D. D. Which 1 — where ! Here I could have 'em, 
and there I could have 'em. — \He fences ivith his staff.] 
— Mr. Runter 1 I profess I knew you not ! 

Bu. Then ha' done now ! Come, gentlemen, what 
say you ? The business must be discovered, first or 



104 THE CHEATS. 

last, and as good now and perhaps better than another 
time. 

Aft I like it well, but think it were not amiss to 
lessen the company. We will not appear all at once. 

Ru. However, let 'em be within call. 

Jol. Pray, gentlemen, keep together ; we shall have 
occasion to use you presently. 

Bil. You see my arm's in a scarf — much cannot be 
expected from me. But, for a dead lift, we'll make a 
shift to change hands. Gi' the word of command 
there — ^faces about, etc. 

Jol. And hear me. Major! Lend me your chain, and 
let it be your care to provide some abominable music. 
We'll bring him to our bow, or run him to death with 
fiddlers. 

Bil. I warrant you. Here ! — \He gives him the chain. 

Exeunt all hut Jolly, Afterwit, and Beatrice. To 
them enter Scruple, and Mrs. Whitebroth. 

Mrs. Wh. How'? — married? Oh, my child! my child! 

Sc. You might have believed me sooner. How 
often have I told you she was in her teens ? and, you 
know, teen quasi teeming. I may be a little free with 
you. Young girls are like nuts — you must gather 
them when they begin to be brown at bottom, or 
they'll fall of themselves. 

Mrs. JVh. But, truly, I hope it is not so plain as you 
make it. 

Sc. How think you ? 

[Afterwit and Beatrice come up and kneel. 

Mrs. Wh. Oh, my child ! my child ! Thy father is 
pretty hoddy again, but this will break his heart quite. 
Oh, my cliild ! Has he not hurt thee 1 

Enter Whitebroth, Mopus, and Timothy ; after them 
Mrs. Mopus. 

Aft. No great sign of death, mother. 

Wh. What's all this clutter ? Here's a noise for a 
sick man, with all my heart ! — [Aeterwit and 
Beatrice kneel to him.] — How's this ? 



THE CHEATS. 105 

Sc. Nothing but matrimony, sir, and conjugal love. 

Wh. And were you pimp to 't ? I hope you have 
made sure of her portion. I can assure you her 
grandfather left her not so much as a grey groat. 

Aft. I have enough in her. 

fFh. Much good may 't do you ! 

Bea. Good sir, forgive me ! 

J'FIi. Out of my doors ! The wench is pretty hand- 
some, and will be able to get her own living if the 
parish will but keep the children. 

Aft. I must not hear this language. Know you 
thisi A good honest settlement upon myself — [he 
shoivs the deed] — and your daughter, in consideration 
of marriage. 

IFh. Ha ! — settlement ! — and in consideration of 
marriage ? I was not drunk, sure I When was this 
done ? 

Aft. Only a little crop sick — very lately. 

Sc. Indeed, sir, you desired this gentleman and 
myself to be witnesses to it. I know my hand again. 

Mop. I saw you sign, seal, and deliver it. 

fFh. I pubhshed only my will. 

Mop. I know not what your meaning was, but you 
delivered it as your act and deed. 

fFh. Timothy ! fetch me the Constable 

Jol. Sir, he'll save you that trouble ; I met him just 
coming to you about a suspicious person, whom he 
apprehended with this chain in his pocket. — [Re shoivs 
the chain.] — You cannot imagine whose it should be ? 
— [Whitebroth makes no anstver, but holds up his 
hands, and walks. 

Enter full butt upon him Bilboe, Double Diligence, 
TiTERE Tu, and Mrs. Double Diligence. 

Wh. Cheated ! cheated ! — as I'm an Alderman, 
purely cheated ! 

Aft. How can that be ? You have the reputation 
of as shrewd a man as any upon the bench. 

JVh. Ah ! rogues all ! rogues all ! [He walks again. 

Jol. What say you, sir 1 Here's the Constable now. 



106 THE CHEATS. 

Come, come ; be wise ! Your daughter has married 
a gentleman. Is not this better than a Smithfield 
bargain — give me so much money, and my horse shall 
leap your mare ? 

Wli. Don't worry me with words ! I'll consider oft. 

Sc. Good sir, marriages are made in heaven. 

IFh. Then I'll be sworn I had ne'er a friend there. 

Cis. Truly, nor I neither ; for indeed, methinks, they 
are very long in coming down. [Aside. 

Sc. Now, verily, sir, but this a just judgment upon 
you for hoarding up your moneys, and suffering the 
good old cause to starve. 

JFh. Screech-owl ! But where's my doctor 1 

Jol. Why, troth, sir, you cannot blame him ; he is 
somewhat loth to appear till he see how things are 
like to go. Come, pray, sir. 

Wh. Well, sir, I see by this chain the Major and 
you understand one another. Let's have no more 
words ; all parties shall be satisfied. Give me 't ! 

Jol. There — and may you long Kve to wear 't. You 
may come down — all's well. 

[To EuNTER, peeping above. 

Wh. Come, son and daughter ; the business is done, 
and I forgive you both. And if that settlement be 
not large enough, I'll make you a new one upon 
demand. You shall have your own estate back in 
present, and, as you love your mfe, the rest after our 
deaths. And so you have my blessing. 

Aft. and, Bea. — [kneel] — We thank you, sir. 

Wh. Come, let's be merry ! and, as late as 'tis, send 
for the music — we must have a dance at least. 

Jol. See what 'tis to forecast a man's business right. 
They are gone for, and will be here instantly. 

Wh. But we forget the main thing — the posset. 
Quickly, Cis, and get one ready. [Exit CiS. 

Mrs. Wh. How's this 1 music ! — dancing ! posset ! 
Are they lawful, good Mr. Scruple 1 

Mrs. Mop. Are they not the rags of the whore ? 
. Sc. Thereafter as they may be used. I will consider 
it a little, and give you my opinion. [He vjalks. 



THE CHEATS. 107 



Enter Runter. 

Wh. my doctor ! you're a fine gentleman ! Good 
faith, you are ! 

Ru. Who — 1 1 I care not if all my faults were writ 
in my forehead. 

Enter Tyro. 

WTi. It must be in shorthand then, or there -vyill 
want room. 

Jol. Here's Tyi'o too. You're even come time 
enough to dance at your mistress's wedding ! 

Ty. How ! My mistress's wedding ] 

T. T. Even so. Alas, that I had known of this 
before ! 

Ru. Women will have their wills. Let her go — I 
have another guess-thing in chase for you. 

Ty. And shall I have her 1 

Ru. Thou shalt. And hark you ! 
[RuNTER having tvhispered him, he shrugs, and scratches 
his elbow. 

Sc. Hum — I am full, and shall discourse 'em 
gradually. And first, of the first — music. Yes, 
certainly, it is lawful. But what music ; that's the 
question. We'll examine it a little. Cymbals — they 
are Jewish ; the harp — malignant and Irish ; organs — 
antichristian ; the flute — a mere hornpipe ; the fiddle — 
out upon 't ! most abominable ; it ushers in revels and 
May-poles. What then ? Why, truly, I agree with the 
Assembly — bagpipes ; a harmless, innocent music, and 
most agreeable to the discipline and practice of our 
brethren of the kirk. Besides, it has (as the learned 
observe) a specific quahty, to molHfy and soften the 
most brutal natures — witness the bears. 

"EmolHt mores nee sinit esse feros." 
But, secondly, for dancing : — why, truly, that may be 
lawful too. But here, too, the point will be the same — 
what dancing 1 Country dances — they are pagan ; 
French dances — fie, fie ! antic ; our ordinary dancing 
— villanous; 'tis mixed and promiscuous — a very 



108 



THE CHEATS. 



Nicolaitanism. The benchers' measures, I must con- 
fess, they come somewhat near were they not 
superstitious. What then ? Why, the men may dance 
in one room, and the women in t'other. Lastly, for 
the posset : — and, truly, here I'm in a great wood. 
But not to dAYell upon the letter whether posset, or 
p-osset, I shall take it as it lies before me — posset — 
and, truly, that may be lawful too. Lemon-posset is 
cooling ; carduus-posset, henedidus ; and sack-posset 
comfortable ; but wedding-sack-posset — there's the 
])oint ! Truly, I half doubt it, and that for fifteen 
reasons — hum 

Jol. A plague o' these fiddlers ! AVe shall be 
murdered ere they come. 

Sc. I say, for fifteen reasons. First, from the name 
of the things, — posset, from posse, to be able, and from 
that fond supposition first brought into weddings — an 
invention merely carnal. But secondly, for that it 
ministreth abundance of unsavoury discourse. Thirdly, 
for that the grace before it is none at all, and the 
grace after it lewd. Fourthly, that it is eaten by the 
parties cliiefly concerned, only in spite. Fifthly, 
hum — haw — I say, fifthly 

Enter Fiddles. 

Jol. Servavit Apollo ! Strike up ! strike up ] One 
noise best drowns another. 

Sc. A wholesome observation lost. 

Jol. 'Twill keep cold for another time. 

JVh. Come, gentlemen, one dance, and then for the 
posset ! \Tliey dance. Tyro pipes. 

Jol. Yet, with your favour, Mr. Alderman, a song 
would do no hurt. 

Wh. I think so too. 

Sc. But ye don't consider 'tis Saturday night, and 
past sunset. 

Jol. Or you, that the room's next the street, and 
most of the neighbours will take it for a psalm. 

Wh. Well said, Mr. Jolly 1 and we will have it. 
Begin ] 



THE CHEATS. 109 



A Song. 



Do it, do 't ! Ay, but what, my good fellow ? 
Canst thou tell me what 'tis makes a glad man 1 

Shall I flatter to thrive, 

Or be honest and live 
The same beast I was born, and die mad — man 1 

Shall I bow to the calves of the season ? 
Or cry up the Sir Pol of the nation 1 

Or the college of fools, 

Or those moulds of the schools 
That spoil forty for one that they fashion ] 

Shall I speak to the world, I've the meagrim, 
By adorning the furrs and the custard?"' 

By the conjugal itch, 

Or the "plague of being rich, 
And be damned for another man's bastard ] 

Shall I bluff like the man of great business 1 
Or set a starch'd face upon folly 1 

Shall I pet and repine, 

Turn love-sick and whine, 
Or kick the world round, and be jolly ? 

That ! that ! And while Gotam Hall statists 
Buzz their heads with this fop and that clatter, 

Who'll be the next mayor 

Shall be least of my care, 
Or who Pope on this side the water. 

Then away with 't ! And thy foot to mine, boy ! 
Here's a glass ! and again ! 'twill ne'er hurt you. 
Drunk, drunk, and dead drunk. 
And perpetually drunk, 
Oh, 'tis the reward of virtue ! 

[He drinks it off'. 
* Qy. Costard— the head ? 



110 THE CHEATS. 

Wh. Why, so — we are all friends ! And now, you 
that are for the posset, follow me ! 

Jol. Well moved ! well moved ! — the bride begins to 
be sleepy. 

Bil. Lead on before, there ; I'll bring up the rear. 
Come, landlord, bear up for the bar of Chester ; and 
since we have had so good fortune to-day, we'll hence- 
forth boil our beef in sack, and make the beggars 
drunk with the porridge. [Exeunt. 



THE END. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 



Andronicus Conmenius : A Tragedy. By John Wilson. 
Juvenal, Sat. 13. — ' Fatebere tandem, nee surdum, nee Tire- 
siam, quenquam esse deorum' — ^At last you'll find, that heaven 
is neither deaf nw blind.' London, Printed for John Starkey, 
at the Mitre, between the Middle-Temple Oate and Temple- 
Bar, in Fleet Street. 1664. ito. 



AxDRONiCTTS CoMNEXUs, or, according to "Wilson, Comnenius, 
was, as Gibbon truly observes, a remarkable instance of the 
truth, of the old proverb, that "bloodthirsty is the man who 
returns from banishment to power" — an adage of which Marius 
and Tiberius were striking instances, and of which Andronicus 
is a still more striking illustration. * He was the youngest son 
of Isaac, who had the title of Sebastocrator, "which approached 
the dignity, without sharing the power, of the Emperor, "+ and 
gi-andson of the Emperor Alexius Comnenus i. 

He was "one of the most conspicuous characters of the age, 
and his genuine adventures might form the subject of a verj* 
singular romance. To justify the choice of three ladies of royal 
birth, it is incumbent on me to observe, that their fortunate 
lover was cast in the best proportions of strength and beauty ; 
and that the want of the softer graces was supplied by a manly 
countenance, a lofty stature, athletic muscles, and the air and 
deportment of a soldier. The preservation in his old age of 
health and vigour was the reward of temperance and exercise. " 
"Dexterous in arms, he was ignorant of fear; his persuasive 
eloquence could bend to every situation and character of life ; 
his style, though not his practice, was fashioned by the example 
of St. Paul ; and in every deed of mischief he had a heart to 
resolve, a head to contrive, and a hand to execute." 

In selecting a portion of the life of Andronicus as a fitting 
subject for his drama, Wilson has taken the latter part of his 
sanguinary career, when, by his intrigues, his hypocrisy, and the 
aid of those he subsequently betrayed, he succeeded in placing 
on his brows the Byzantine diadem ; and it cannot be denied 
that our Author has been successful in the manner in which 
the true history has been epitomized, and in the language used 
for that purpose, which is throughout poetical and appropriate. 
The scenes where Andronicus declines the purple, and especially 
the one where, after murdering Alexius, his youthful associate, 
he courts his widow, Alice, J is not much inferior to the well- 
known passage of words between Richard iii. and the Lady 
Anne, the widow of the only son of Henry vi. There is a 
singular resemblance between the Andronicus of Constantinople 
and Richard of England : both were murderers, and both mar- 

* History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap, xlviii. 
London, 1791. Vol. ix. p. 104. 

■f Ibid. p. 86. 

X A daughter of Louis vii., King of France. In the Dramatis Personm 
she is called Anna. 

H 



114 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

ried tlie widows of tlie parties they had murdered. But the 
Eastern Potentate exceeded in acts of atrocity the King of 
England, whose deeds of murder sink into insignificance when 
compared with the wholesale slaughters perpetrated by the last 
male representative of the illustrious race of the Comneui. 

Gibbon has devoted several pages* of his valuable work to 
this unchristian Christian, who avenged the fancied wrongs he 
had suffered from his cousin, the Emperor Manuel, upon his 
widow, the Empress Maria, and their son Alexius. "In the 
first months of his administration, his designs Avere veiled by a 
fair semblance of hypocrisy, which could delude only the eyes of 
the multitude. The coronation of Alexius was performed with 
due solemnity ; and his perfidious guardian, holding in his hands 
the body and blood of Christ, most fervently declared that he 
lived and was ready to die for the service of his beloved pupil. " 

Thus, in his protestations, Andronicus went far beyond 
Kichard, who never profaned the religion he professed by false- 
hoods of this description. After thus declaring the boy 
Emperor, the credulous citizens of Byzantium were easily in- 
duced to assume that the associating of Andronicus as joint- 
ruler with the boy- emperor was the only way of saving the 
empire from ruin. 

Amongst his earliest acts of vindictive revenge, was that 
perpetrated by him upon the Empress Maria, whom he accused 
of treasonably corresponding with the King of Hungary. He 
caused her to be apprehended and tried before a "tribune, 
which, without requiring any proof, or hearing any defence, 
condemned the widow of Manuel ; and her unfortunate son sub- 
scribed the sentence of her death. Maria was strangled, her 
corpse was buried in the sea, and her memory was wounded by 
the insult most offensive to female vanity — a false and ugly 
representation of her beauteous form." 

The fall of Alexius was not long deferred. He was strangled 
with a bow-string ; and the veteran tyrant, after surveying the 
body of his innocent victim, kicked it with his foot, exclaiming, 
" Thy father was a knave, thy mother a w^hore, and thyself a 
fool. " As a suitable conclusion to this bloody episode, Androni- 
cus married the widow of his murdered colleague. To complete 
this fearful tragedy, he put to death all those friends by whose 
zeal and activity he was enabled to assume the purple. 

After a sanguinary reign of three years, in the course of 
which Andronicus, from time to time, destroyed every member 
he could find of the imperial family, including his own half- 
sister, the Princess Mary, it came to his knowledge that there 
still existed a descendant of Alexius the Great, + named Isaac 

* Chap, xlviii. 

■f Alexius I. was father of the Princess Anna Comnena, who wrote his 
life, a work which "betrays in every page the vanity of a female author." 
He assumed the purple in 1081, 1st April. The Princess Anna is introduced 
toy Scott in Count Robert of Paris. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 115 

Angeliis, who, although by a female descent, might at some 
future period occasion him trouble. He resolved upon his death ; 
and, ha\'ing given orders for his execution, retired Avith his 
Empress and a favourite mistress to one of the delicious islands 
of the Propontis, to enjoy the pleasures of their fascinating 
society free from interruption of every kind. 

The proscribed Isaac did not tamely submit to the bow- 
string ; he bravely defended himself, slew the executioner, and 
fled to the church of St. Sophia for sanctuary, where he w^as sui'- 
rounded by a crowd of the citizens, who, becoming apprehensive 
what might be the consequence of their daring to obstruct the 
tyrant's order, took courage, and exclaimed : ""What should we 
fear ? Why do we obey ? We are many and he is one : our 
patience is the only bond of our slavery. " 

At dawn, the populace were beyond control. The prisons 
were forced open, and the liberated inmates swelled the crowd 
of malcontents. Isaac Avas proclaimed Emperor. * Andronicus, 
after a futile attempt to recover his position, attempted to 
escape by sea, but was captured and dragged in chains to the 
presence of his successor, who abandoned him to the tender 
mercies of his captors. The description of the tortures inflicted 
on this monster need not be here detailed, as our author has 
sufficiently enumerated them in his drama. 

Geneste remarks that this tragedy has, "on the whole, con- 
siderable merit, particularly in the character of Andronicus," 
an opinion, we venture to think, in which our readers will con- 
cur. It is well put together, and the interest never flags from 
the commencement to the end. The tyi'ant's son Manuel is 
admirably drawn, and his virtuous character afi"ords a strong 
contrast to the vicious one of his parent. Manuel is represented 
as one worthy of the Grecian diadem, and in the drama shines 
as a brilliant star amongst the lesser lights by whom he is 
suiTounded. After the dethronement of Andronicus, it is 
erroneously said by Gibbon that he became King of Trebizond, 
a country of which much has been said, but of Avhich little is 
known. 

Had Wilson been aware of the fate of Manuel, he would not 
have put the commonplace morsels of morality with which the 
tragedy terminates in the mouth of Isaacus Angelus, who, so far 
from feeling commiseration for the Prince, made him a captive, 
deprived him of his eyesight after the Oriental fashion, and 
afterwards, it is believed, put him to death. 

The two infant sons of the Prince, Alexis and David, fled 
with their aunt Tamar to Colchis, where they grew up to man's 
estate. In 1206 Alexis made himself master of Trebizond, 
where he ruled until his death in 1222. 

The most original character of the piece is that of Philo, the 
"zany" of Andronicus, who adheres to his master in all his 

* 1185, Sept. 1. 



116 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 



fortunes, and dies for him. It may "be conjectured, as nothing 
is recorded of him in Gibbon, that he was a myth, the creation 
of Wilson's fancy. The dialogue between Manuel and Philo, in 
which the Prince endeavours to convert him to virtue, is, we 
fear, more poetical than real. 

Wilson has produced a noble tragedy, written in excellent 
blank verse, at a period when the ear of the puW'c was corrupted 
by the wretched jingle of rhyme, made fashionable as a French 
importation, and patronized by the king and his courtiers. 
Perhaps on that account it was never acted on the stage. 



TO MY FEIEND A. B. 

If ever you give yourself the divertisement of reading 
the preface to my comedy of TM Cheats, you may re- 
member I did as good as protest against apologies ; 
and yet the case happens to be such at present, that 
I find myself, how unwilling soever, engaged to tread 
that path yet once again. To tell you how long since 
this tragedy was first written, or why it has not been 
since acted, were but in effect to suspect your memory. 
'Tis enough to me that you know both, and I doubt 
not will be ready to do me right as you see occasion. 
I pass it, and, according to our wonted freedom, shall 
only speak a few words to the thing : A story of the 
Eastern Empire, between the years 1179 and 1183, and 
such, perhaps, as might not be thought altogether un- 
parallel to what ourselves have seen, were not the one 
but too fresh in our memories, and the other too far 
removed from our knowledge. And now, methinks I 
hear you charging me with a non bene conveniunt. The 
story of three or four years cramped into fewer hours ! 
And why not 1 My design was a history, and if I 
have kept the connection, I may reasonably presume 
I have observed enough ; nay, further, if I have dealt 
with it as Procrustes with his guests, — lopped some, or 
stretched others, — be pleased to consider, 'twas for the 
same reason, that I might the better fit them to my 
own model. To be short, if I have once again made 
my thoughts legible, and myself the subject of every 
man's opinion, how weak soever, be pleased, to such 
cavils as you may chance to meet with, to oppose 
this : — That notwithstanding I may have written some 
few plays, yet the stage is the last thing I shall pre- 
tend to j and therefore, though possibly I could wish 



118 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

ut placerent quas fecissem fabulas, yet I was never so 
much in love with a full cry, as to believe that all 
opened alike, or that the approbation of one wise man 
was not more worth than the noise of a multitude. 
Let me not seem immodest if I close all with that of 
Plautus — 

"Yirtute am hire oportet, non favitoribus ; 
Sat habet favitorum semper qui recte facit. " 

Farewell ! — Yours, etc., 

J. Wilson. 

Jan. 15, 1663. 



THE PERSONS. 



Alexius Comnenius, A Youth, the Son and Successor of 
Manuel Comnenius, Emperor of Constantinople. 

Anna, His Wife, a Daughter of France, afterwards mar- 
ried by Andronicus. 

Maria C^esarissa, Half-sister to Alexius, and Wife to 
Ccesar, an Italian lord, only mentioned, but appears 
not. 

Sebastus, The Husband of Xene, the Widow of Manuel, 
who, by debauching the Emperoi^'s youth, had got the 
management of affairs. 

Andronicus Comnenius, A Prince of the blood, ba- 
nished by Manuel; but, being called home to counter- 
poise Sebastus, usurps upon Alexius, murders him, 
> and marries Anna. 



Manuel, His Son. 



CONTO, 

CONSTANTINUS, 
DUCAS, 

Lapardas, 



Stephanus, 



Basilius, 



r Admiral of the 
\ Gallies. 

J Lords of thebest 
extraction. 



' Captain of the 
Guard to 
Alexius, and 
afterwards to 
Andronicus. 
President of the 
City; both 
confidants to 
Andronicus. 



All of them, together 
with Maria and 
Basilius, a bishop, 
often mentioned, 
but appears not, 
of the conspiracy 
to bring in An- 
dronicus. 



120 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 



Mamalxjs, Secretary of State during the time of Manuel, 
laid by by Sebastus. 

Philo, Andronicus's Zany. 

IsAACUS * Angelus, A Gentleman of the blood, afar off, 
but living obscurely in a monastery, not taken notice 
of by Andronicus; but, the rest of the blood being 
destroyed, he is in a tumult set up against Andronicus, 
and carries the Emjpire. 



Citizens. 
Guards. 



Servants. 
Fiddlers. 



The Scene — 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 



* Throughout the play, as originally printed, this character is 
styled " Isacius." 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS: 

A TRAGEDY. 

Act i. — Scene i. 
Enter Lapakdas and DucAS. 

Du. 'Tis strange ! and were 't not for tliat ready- 
faith 
I owe your lordship, I had sooner taken 
Another article to my creed. A woman ! 
And yet so large a soul ! Your lordship's merry ! 

La. Troth, no ; she fixt me, Ducas ! When I saw 
How she first took the question, stated it, 
Ean the whole matter, and, where danger offer'd, 
Past it with such a careless scorn. Believe me 
It made me wonder into what narrow cranny 
My soul had crept ! 

Du. You've such a knack at speeching, 

You either find them good, or make them so. 
Eack me no longer, dearest sir ; let's have it ! 

La. And willingly. We met — you know the place ; 
Nor was th' appearance small. And as in councils 
There never was a fool, — at least that would 
Be thought so, — ev'ry man let fly his bolt ! 
One offer'd this, another that. The point 
Was common danger. All agreed the thing, 
But few the way of helping it — that plague 
And mischief of gTeat actions, " Let's do better," 
Had so unhing'd their souls, until Maria 
Summ'd up their Kttle all, told them th' 'ad lost 
The question, and 'twas not their wellbeing 



122 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

But being was the point — not what Greece should be, 
But whose it was ! And when they threw in doubts, 
That thou hadst seen her how she blew them off ! 
Snufft at their scruples ! " And is this," quoth she, 
" The lion in the way 1 Can danger baulk 
Men once resolv'd ^ Be that bugbear mine ! 
I dare encounter it, and act, whate'er 
You all dare think ! " 

Du. 'Twas a brave virago ! 

A wonder of her sex ! A phoenix, sure ! 

La. Ay, you'd have sworn it, had you heard that 
world 
Of which this is but an imperfect globe — • 
A wrong side of the hangings ! 

Du. But, my lord. 

How was it relish'd 1 Did not their seats grow warm ? 

La. No ; but they all lookt wistly one on t'other. 
As who would say, 'twas true enough, but yet 
Some passages might have been well forborne. 

Du. What was the issue 1 

La. Why, they all shook hands, 

And by a general vote center'd in this : 
That men and monies must be rais'd, to break 
The present faction, and themselves would do 't ! 
Next, that Andronicus be invited home 
To head the forces, which Maria pray'd 
Might be her part o' th' work. Which once agreed, 
Sooner than thought they fell into their gears ; 
Each man subscrib'd his task, gave order straight 
For her instructions, and have since despatcht her. 

Du. But no account as yet 1 

La. Not possible ! 

'Tis scarce two months since she departed hence. 
And we forbade all packets. But this night 
She is expected. Good my lord, be there ! 
Your proxy'U serve no longer. I have told them 
Your gout is over ! 

Du. I shall, my lord ! My fate 

Euns hand in hand with yours ! 



ANDRONICUS COaiNENIUS. 123 

Enter Maimalus. 

But see ! "VMio's coming yonder % I'm mistaken, 
Or 'tis Mamalus ! He was an honest courtier 
And our true friend ; why should not he make one % 

La. He is best able. All the affairs of Greece 
Have pass'd his hand, and with no ill success. 

Du. Let's try ! My honour for his secrecy ! 

La. With all my heart ! See, he comes up to you ! 

Du. Mamalus, save you ! 'Tis an age, or better, 
Since we last met. 

Ma. The loss, my lords, was mine ! 

La. But whence, our friend? — turn'd courtier again % 
How goes all there ? 

Ma. Troth, I've scarce seen the place 

Since my great lord and master, Manuel, died. 
I can nor fawn nor truckle. 

Loj. Pettish, I warrant ! I'm asham'd, Mamalus ! 
Is it a courtier's part to show his teeth 
Before he bite 1 — to breathe a pitiful revenge 
Ere he have power to act ? x^o ! Great men's injuries 
Are best remedied by not understanding them. 
Or seeming t' 'ave forgot them ; whereas, otherwise, 
Y' aTe sure to be prevented with a greater. 
Have a good heart ! I not forbid thee strike ; 
But do it sure. 

Ma. Your lordship's wide o' the mark. 

Yet since you name the Court, when were you there ? 

Du. Troth, we come there, and that is all. We're 
grown 
Barely spectators — idle lookers on. 
Sometimes, perhaps, out of a compliment, 
To countenance a business, or concur. 
We're caU'd to council too. 

La. And what of that ? 

Matters of consequence we must not know. 
Nor is it out of love to us, but fear 
Of what may follow, that we've kept our heads. 

Ma. And can you blame me, then, that have no 
stake, 



124 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

If I sit out, when you that have the greatest 
Have such ill carding 1 

Du. Break his neck that packt them ! 
Come, join with us — shuffle and cut again ! 

Ma. I am no conjuror ; your lordship must 
Speak plainer ere I understand you right. 

La. Give us thy hand and word for secrecy ! 

Ma. You have them both. 

La. Then, to be short, we're lost, 

And so's the empire ! Now, to recover it. 
Most of the lords and officers of state 
Are join'd ; nor want we men, or arms, or money ! 
Andronicus the head — at least we hope so. 

Ma. But why, my lords, such haste % Must a man 
lop 
A limb 'cause out of joint 1 — knock out his brains 
To cure the headache ? What's to be done but once 
Should be considered twice ! Mutations 
Are ever dangerous, even where the thing 
Might have been good and profitable at first ; 
It being impossible to provide against 
Those inconveniences we can't foresee. 

La. But there's no other way ! Has not Sebastus 
Turn'd us quite topsy-turvy, disoblig'd 
The nobles, trampl'd under foot the commons ] 

Ma. 'Tis granted ! But why this last remedy ? 
Bear it a little — time may work it off ! 
Come, come ! close with him ! Blow the bladder stiff. 
And it must crack ! By pulling others down 
He has o'erbuilt himself ! 

Du. We've often thought so, 

But find it otherwise. 

Ma. Admitting yet 

You must be changing, how are you secure 
He that comes next shall not be worse ? Who, pray. 
Shall keep the keepers 1 

Du. We have order'd that. 

Ma. But why Andronicus, of all the world 1 

Du. Why ] He's a soldier, and a Prince o' th' blood, 
And valiant enough ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 125 

3Ia. So much the worse ! 

What were a virtue in another, in him 
May prove a crime ! He is too near the crown 
Already, and this gives him th' occasion 
Of grasping that he has so long design'd ! 
I dare not — nay, I must not join ! The wolf 
Shall never have my voice to make him shepherd ! 
But yet, to show your lordships I'll be secret, 
I'll trust you with as much. You may remember 
My master banisht him ; but why, I'll tell you. 
He is a Prince of the most daring soul 
E'er dropt from Heaven — industrious, vigilant. 
Kind, affable, magnificent. 

Yet all this good — nay, all his lusts and passions 
Are slaves to his ambition ! Take him there, 
Nothing can hold him. Laws, religion, all. 
Sacred or civil, are no more than — this ! 

Du. But we'll provide for that. AVe'll tie him up 
Fast under hand and seal, well backt with oaths ! 

Ma. Tie him with oaths ! Hah! You may sooner hold 
An angry lion with a clew of thread. 
Giants with rotten tow ! Th' old emperor found it, 
When, having forgiv'n him so oft, he still 
Broke out anew — swore and forswore again ; 
Until necessity made him resolve 
To kill or banish him — which last took place. 
Pray Heaven 't 'as altered him ! Howe'er, let me 
Remain your lordships' servant ! 

Both. Friend, you mean ! Farewell ! 

[Exit Mamalus. 

La. 'Tis time that we went too. 

Du. I wait your motion. ^[Exeunt. 



Scene ii. 

Enter Sebastus and CoNSTANTiNUS. 

Con. Now, good my lord ! h' 'as been an ancient 
servant 



126 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Unto our family ! 'Tis tlie least I can ! 
Pray let him have it ! 

Seh. How was your lordship saying ? 
I did not mind you well, my head's so full ! [Scratches, 

Con. 0' th' simples! — [Aside.] — Come, I beg but 
seldom. 
Shall I send him to kiss your hands ? 

Seb. Matters of State 

Beat all things out ! 

Con. No ; 'tis your oval crown [Aside. 

Lets nothing in ! 

Seb. But, good my lord, what is 't 1 
It must be somewhat more than in my power 
When you're denied. 

Con. Troth, 'tis a very nothing ! 

Seb. Why, then, you have it ! Is your lordship 
pleas'd 1 

Con. Hah ! yours is pleasant ; 'tis a little odd thing — 
The majordomo to his majesty's bears. 

Seb. Certain, my lord, it is too mean a place ; 
And he might find much better. What is 't worth "? 

Con. Not much above a hundred crowns a year, 
Besides the blessing that attends an office. 

aS'^^. Stay 1 Majordomo 1 — Let me see ! I doubt 
Somewhat was done in 't lately. — [Scratches.] — Oh ! I 

have 't ! 
Alas ! my lord, 'tis gone — dispos'd, in troth. 
Now I'm so sorry ! 

Con. But to whom ? or how 1 

Seb. Why, I'm mistaken, or the Emperor gave it 
To — [scratches] — an old servant of his father's. 

Con. Strange I 

Eagles do seldom stoop so low. 

Seb. Then 'twas 

My wife — and like enough it might be so ! 
But there are other things as good, or better, 
And might be found if men were diligent. 
Trust me, I am so vext ; I'll tell my wife 
What a displeasure she hath done your lordship. 

[Exit. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 127 

Con. Your lordship's ! Gone ! — dispos'd ! My life, 
this fellow 
Would sell his soul, were any man so mad 
To bid him money for 't ! Was this a thing 
To be believ'd ? The devil of such a servant 
Or office I yet ever heard or dreamt ; 
But now I see 'tis good to try one's friends 
Ere a man needs 'em. And the same have I 
The nature of this beast. Now is he gone 
To hunt a chapman ; but the scent, beloved. 
Will be cold ere you light on one ! Dull Greece ! 
Where is thy soul % What magic or what fate 
Has dampt thy spirits % Canst thou live, yet be 
Bull'd by this urchin ? Canst thou breathe, yet suffer 
Such a slave ride thee % — such a tinsel bauble % 
No ! Know, fond man, though Greece be fast asleep. 
Her genius wakes ; nor shall thy formal nothing 
Brave it much longer ! Dirt thou art, and dirt 
Shall be thy last, and sudden too ! 'Tis done 
The better half, what is once well begun ! [Exit. 



Scene hi. 
Enter Philo, solus, with a letter in his hand. 

Ph. Hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! To see 
this world ! 
Luck's all ! 'Tis better to be fortunate 
Than be a rich man's son ! Here are boys scrambling : 
One gets an apple, t'other a broken pate ! 
There's good luck and bad luck ! 
Yonder a knot of rogues rebel : the poor ones 
Hang for example, and the great ones are "_ 
Ev'n what they please — good luck and bad luck too ! 

'Tis now two years since first my master sent me 
To manage his design within this city. 
And what have I done there ? Only deserv'd 
For to be hanged ! Many an honester man 
Than both has marcht that way ! But the luck's all ! 



128 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

See ! — [Shoivs his letter.] — I've receiv'd intelligence from 

him 
That what we have been hammering so long 
Is just dropt into 's mouth ! 'Tis offer'd him ! 
Here is a kennel of such precious curs 
They cannot rule themselves ; and now they court 
The devil to part stakes ! I hope he will 
Remember them in time ! Troth, they deserve it. 
Well, I must to them ; but, to bring me there, 
Find out Maria ! Now, the wit of woman ! 
I see they may be trusted with more secrets 
Besides their husbands' ; though, in troth, I judge 
'Twas the best place to lodge one safe — wise men 
Ne'er look for 't there ! 

Enter Manuel in a di 



But what have we got here 1 
A piece of poetry in prose 1 Hah ! hah ! 
A small philosopher, but that he wears 
A brawling-iron ! He walks as if he were 
Measuring feet with the Antipodes, 
Or treading out the Saxon ordeal ! 
Sure it would speak ! I'll step aside and see. 

Man. Vain state of wretched man, that only knows 
AVhat yet he found too soon — his misery ! 
Where is that happiness philosophers 
So much contend for 1 I have often met 
The name, but ne'er the thing ! — sure 'tis their stone. 
In other words ; or, having trod that path 
So long, I must have reach'd my journey's end. 
One would have thought my birth, to say no more, 
Had been enough t'ave given me title to 't. 
But now, I am convinc'd 'tis but a dream, 
An airy fancy ; or if yet there be 
More in 't, 'tis negative, and to be happy 
Is only not to be miserable ! 

But what do I thus fondly to complain 
In such a common case 1 Trace far and near, 
And all alike — no satisfaction ! 
Now I see nature took a fall when young, 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 129 

She has so limpt e'er since. What's all this world 
But several purlieus of mid beasts that walk 
On their hin' legs, wherein not always strength, 
But such as have the cleanliest conveyance, 
Drive the dull staring herd before them 1 
What's all that noise and cry of public good 
But a conspiracy of the richer sort 
To grind the poor, and fence themselves with laws 
To keep that safely they've unjustly got 1 
What makes a traitor but a ruin'd cause 1 
Or heretics, but being less in number 1 
Tiay, what are even our greater ties become 
But bawds to interest, and specious names 
To cover great men's wrongs 1 Who, then, would live 
That had but soul enough to die 1 or be 
A pris'ner when the keys of his own prison 
Hung by his side, and might discharge himself? 
And so will I — [draws] — 'tis worthy of my blood ! 
Here — [sets the hilt to ground] — take your virtue back 
again who gave it ! 

And by your leave 

[Philo comes from behind the hangings and 
trips his sword away. 
Ph. And mine too, if you please ! 

Man. Still more misfortune ! What art thou ] 'Twas 
rude 
To take that from me which thou darest not give ! 

[Manuel riseth and runs upon the other's point. 
Ph. Stand off ! Nay, since you must pursue your 
folly. 
Hold ! there's your sword again — [draws]. 

[They fight and dose; in the close Philo knows 
him, throws aiuay his sword, and kneels. 
My honour'd lord 1 
Now, shall I bless or curse my hand ? 

Man. Begone ! 

And tempt thy fate no longer ! 

Ph. My best lord ! 

Yet hear me speak 

MaM. Rise, and bs sudden then ! 

I 



130 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Ph. I shall. — [Riseth.l — And, since this combat of 
your passions 
May've checkt each other, give your reason time 
To breathe a while ! Consider what you're doing ! 
It is an injury to yourself and nature. 
Nature preserves itself, and taught not this, 
Nor promis'd any by privation bliss. 

Man. Injurious to myself it cannot be ! 
I'm willing ; injury supposes force. 
Nor yet 'gainst nature ; for then surely they, 
Whom no religion aw'd, as having 't not. 
Had never us'd, at least affected, it. 
Then take your argument, or tell me why 
Nature yet left it in our power to die ? 

Ph. She could not help it. To have made a man, 
And yet denied him liberty of will. 
Had been t'ave given him wings and dipt them too. 
Yet, take 't with its restriction, she ne'er meant 
Because you might you should destroy yourself 
If all should do the same, where were the world 1 

Man. What's that to me ? would the whole world 
lay here ! [Claps his hand u;pon his heart. 

And I'd soon solve the question. 

Ph. Yet show me 

Some late example of this kind ; this humour 
Has worm'd itself quite out of date. 

Man. Disuse 

Is a poor argument. Let children fear 
To sit alone because their candle's out : 
It is enough to me there is yet left 
This remedy and triumph over fortune. 
Begone ! 

Ph. I must not. 'Tis now worth yourself 
To dare to live ! Who ever sunk his ship 
Because he fear'd a storm might do it for him % 
Or kill'd himself to save his enemy pains 1 
Life is a warfare, and who quits the field 
Without a lawful passport runs away. 

Man. And so do thou, and quickly, or, by this 

[Manuel shakes his sword at him. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 131 

I shall too soon confute your argument ! 

Ph. What will your noble father say ? 

Man. Ha ! Father ! 

There's magic in the word ; 't 'as chill'd my blood 
Into a palsy. Hence ! I dare not trust 
My resolution, nor thy tattle, longer. 

Ph. How will he bear 't, I say, when he shall hear 
His son thus sacrific'd to his return ? 

Man. Return ! There's witchcraft in thy breath ! 
Begone ! 
And stagger me no longer with false hopes. 

Ph. Credit me once ! By all that's great or good, 
He's now in Greece — nay, near this city too. 

Man. Shall I believe thee ? No ! it must not be ! 
Somewhat within me whispers 'tis not so. 
Yet say he were ! He has believ'd me lost 
These many years ; and why should I now add 
New sorrows to myself or him — to see him, 
And yet want power to help him 1 

Ph. Fear not that 

You have ! I'll chalk you out the way ; and if 
You see him not ere many hours shall pass. 
As glorious as the sun broke through a cloud. 
Then let that mischief you design'd yourself 
Fall headlong upon me ! 

Man. Well, for a while 

I'll give thee hearing ! [Sheathes his sward. 

Take up that, and help me 
To put it on again. So — so ! 'Tis well ! 

[Philo takes up his grey periwig, and helps him 
on with it agaivi. [Exeunt. 



Scene iv. 

Enter Constantinus, Stephanus, a7id Basilius. 

Bas. 'Twas a good humour ! 

Const. Good ! I'll undertake 

You shall not think that thing he shall not swallow. 



132 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Bas. 'Tis such a starcht intelligible ass ! 

Ste. And may become a fair a twelvemonth hence. 

Const. A dainty fine new-nothing ! — an odd scheme 
Of knave and fool, where yet the fool's ascendant, 
And lords the horoscope — too much the fool 
To conceal handsomely the knave, and yet 
Not knave enough to act the cunning fool ! 
I shall forbear a farther lecture on him ; 
I'm sure he'll stink ere I get half way through him ! 

Ste. I would he knew how well his friends thought 
of him ! 

[To them CoNTO, Lapardas, and DuCAS. 

JBas. See ! here are more of them ! 

Co7ist. My lords, all health ! 

[They salute each other. 
What say you 1 
Shall we fall to our business 1 

Cont. When you please ! 

[They take their seats. 

Const. You know, my lords, what we resolv'd on last. 
Have you received any account as yet 1 
Is our Maria safe, or the work done 1 

Cont. She is returned this night, and sent me word 
She would be here. But what is done I know not. 

Ste. 'Tis a brave lady ! Troth, I half despair'd 
T' have heard of her so soon ! 

Cont. Pray heaven it ben't 

Too soon to all our costs ! 
Your lordships know he is ambitious. 

Const. And who is not, pray 1 

It is the spur of every generous fool ! 
And were not you the same, what make you here 1 

Du. But 't had been prudence t'ave secur'd our- 
selves. 

Const. I hope there's no such need. Here comes a 
lady 

Enter Maria, led hy Philo. 

Will quickly end the difference. Let's go meet her ! 
[They all rise and go to meet her. Exit Philo. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 133 

Madam ! you 're well return'd ! And yet not I, 
But Greece, must speak it ! 

Omnes. Royal Maria, welcome ! 

[They all kiss her hand. 

Mar. My lords and gentlemen, I thank you ! 
And am sufficiently repaid my pains 
In your acceptance. Please you keep your seats. 
And I'll acquaint you what I've done. 

Const Blest madam ! 

Our life and death hang on your Hps ! And yet, 
Methinks that face speaks a good augury. 

Mai: Then know, my lords, 
I have despatcht your message, and here bring you 
All you could ask or think. The sea proved calm, 
The wilKng winds smil'd on the enterprize. 
And left me not till I had reach'd Onseum,* 
Where I soon found Andronicus — his fame 
Needed no guides — but, in that blest retirement, 
That all those things which we call happiness 
Might have took copy from 't, but still come short. 
Not to amuse you longer, I presented 
Your letters, and he read them o'er ; but when 
He saw the business, troth, he wept, and wisht 
It had been in his power to have complied ; 
But he was old, and had given o'er the world 
To younger men, and his ambition now 
Was for a better. Yet he sigh'd and wept, 
And wept and sigh'd, and sigh'd and wept again. 
And thus he kept me many days. Yet still 
I press'd him forward — ^told him Greece was sunk 
Unless he buoy'd it up — that the court had 
More factions than lords — the commons prest — 
The empire shatter' d — nothing could restore 't 
But his lost hand ; beseecht him to forget 
His banishment and him that laid it on. 
At length he paus'd, and, pausing, askt me how 
It could be done *? He was but one ; and arms. 
Not lazy wishes, must accomplish it ! 
On which I show'd him all the whole design — 

* Onium — a place of the Peloponnesvis, near Corinth. 



134 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

The persons' names, wliat force we had already. 

And what expected to be hir'd from thence. 

Well, to be short, I did at last prevail, 

And with his help procur'd five thousand foot ; 

Yet left him not till I had seen all shipt. 

And safe amidst our fleet, where he now rides, 

Before the city, and resolves to land 

This very night, and sack her round ere morn. 

'Tis more than time, my lords, that you were gone — 

There's one came with me has your orders ready. 

Cont. But what conditions has he sign'd ] 

Mar. Much more 

\She throivs them a blank. 
Than you desir'd ; he bids you Avrite your own, 
And he hath sworn religiously to observe them. 

Cont. What's here ? — a blank ! 'Tis what I thought 
— h'as sworn 
To nothing, and nothing he'll perform. Would I 
were fairly rid on 't ! 

Lap. So would I ! 

Bu. And I ! 

Lap. We're fool'd so prettily ! 

Cont. Or we may, in time ! 

[CoxTO, Lapardas, and Ducas rise, walk, 
and ichisper. 

Bas. Did ever men confound a business so ? 
My soul ! we're lost ! — we shall all be discover'd ! 

Ste. I know not what their fear may do. 'Twere 
best 
To knock them i' th' head, and give it out 
The soldiers did it. If our business thrive, 
AYe're well enough ; if not, we save ourselves. 
The dead can tell no tales. 

Bas. 'Twere not amiss ! 

What says my lord 1 

Const. Let's hear him once again ! 

And, Eoyal madam, see what you can do. 

Mar. Well, my good lords, what would you now 
beat? 
Are you resolv'd as yet ? 



\ 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 135 

Cont Why — ^we'll consider 't, 

\Tliey offer to go out, Maria stops them. 
And send you back our answer. 

Mar. How 's this 1 Consider ! Is 't your fear, or 
fate? 
Blisters of greatness, whom the stupid age- 
Dull as yourselves — calls lords ! What prompts you 

this 
Irresolution 1 You all confess 

The Empire flames, and yourselves must burn with it ; 
And yet, forsooth, you first strain courtesy 
Who shall begin, or which the way, to quench it. 
Nor is that block sooner remov'd, but that 
You stumble on another ; and then, too. 
When one would think you had been all resolv'd. 
You must be now secure ! Call you this lording 1 
I shame to hear 't, and, but my sex forbids, 
I should suspect your mothers ! Was 't for this 
My glorious father '"" made all Asia bow. 
Confess his empire, and, had nature pleas' d, 
Shak't all the world — at least brought t'other eagle 
Back to her nest again 1 Was it for this — 
For this, I say, your famous ansires spread 
Their flying banners far as earth had shore, 
Only to leave the empty fame to you ? 
Away ! Agree ! Occasion calls j^ou forth ! 
Show whose you are, and justify your mothers ! 

Const. 'Tis a brave mettled Amazon ! 

[CoNTO, Lapardas, and DucAS walk uj) and 
down, biting their U;ps. 

Ste. T faith, 

She nettles them ! 

Mar. For shame, my lords ! Eesolve — 

Time runs away ! 'Tis execution 
Makes counsel's walk invisible, and, like arrows, 
Outrun the eye, and hit the mark ere seen. 
What is 't you fear 1 If 't be Andronicus 1 
You have his honour, and his oath engaged. 
Or if Sebastus % Fancy not to meet 
* The Emperor Manuel. 



136 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Augustus' arts, nor yet Tiberius' cunning. 

No, no ! he's nothing but a thick-skull'd stallion — 

A very sot — and such a snivelling coward, 

'Tis favour to call him so. Then, courage, lords ! 

Challenge your birthright ! Be no more tame fools. 

Dull heavy beasts, so jaded from your spirits 

That honour cannot spur you up. Come, come ! 

Mind what you should — 'tis now too late t' advise. 

For Greece at present wants more hands than eyes. 

Cont. Why, I still meant it. 

Lap. We'd as good be lost 

In going through as lose our heads for nothing. 

DiL Nay, I'll do what you will — what you resolve 
To do, do quickly. 

Mar. Now you speak like men ! 

Come, my lords ! all 's well again. And for aught 
That yet remains, we'll better order it within. [Exeunt 



Scene v. 

Enter Andronicus, solus. 

Thus far 'tis well, and I return'd again ! 

To thank thee, Greece; nor have thy wrongs been 

sown 
On barren ground, but such as shall repay 
The principal, with its forbearance too. 

I am a Prince — who dares deny 't 1 He breathes 
His last that answers no ! He damns his soul 
In that one negative ! There's but a step 
'Twixt me and the Imperial crown ! Nor should 
That coward wear 't that dares not venture for 't. 
Was this the reason, my blind mistress, that 
You stroock at me 1 That thus you deal with all, 
Fortune, like butchers, makes the fairest fall ! 
But stay ! I'm still upon my feet, and will 
Keep up my chin in spite of her ! If she 
Will not assist, the world shall know I can 
Do it mthout her help ; nor shall she share 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 137 

A doit i' th' praise, when I, arrived at top, 

Thus grasp my wish ! Yet say I were as flat 

As she could lay me — at the lowest ebb — 

I would not yet give out ; 'twere poor to fear : 

Who is past hope he should be past despair ! 

I'll run the hazard, then ; and if I fall. 

What in me lies I'll pluck all after me, 

Nor leave behind me such a one that shall 

So much as mutter 't. No ! my very name 

Shall fright the world, and make future times 

Fondly attempt my history, but not reach it. 

Who follow, tread where men have trod before ; 

Who is example, must be something more ! [Exit 



Act ii. — Scene i. 

Alarums, as at the sack of a town ; shouts within. 
Enter Sebastus, as in a fright. 

Seh. Undone ! undone ! That ever man should be 
Lost ere he dreamt it ! Whither shall I run 
To. hide myself? — [Shout.] — Hark! they've won the 
city. 

Enter Alexius and Anna. 

Alex. What sudden noise is this 1 

Seb. I cannot tell. 

Anna. Who should tell, then 1 

Seb. They say Andronicus 

Has landed thirty thousand horse and foot, 
And is now storming of the city. 

Anna. One would have thought you should have 
looked to this. 

Seb. Who would imagine banishment a place 
To raise an army 1 Or suspect the fleet 1 

Alex. No doubt but he's well back'd by some at 
home. 

Anna. Too true, I fear me ! 



138 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Seb. Will 't please your Majesty to get away 
Ere 't be too late % 

Alex. No ! I liave done no wrong, 

Unless to wear a crown may be call'd such. 

Seh. You willdo well enough, whoever suffer. 

[To Anna. 
Pray think on me ! 

Anna. Yes, I'll remember you ! 
And if my word will do 't 

Seh. Do 't, without doubt ! 

Anna. I'll have thee hanged, thou coward ! Take 
thy sword. 
And if thou canst not find a man that loves thee 
So well as to die by thy side, yet go ! 
And thrust thyself amidst thy thickest foes : 
It may deceive the world. Thy life's not worth 
His pains that takes it from thee. [Alarum — shouts. 

Seb. Hark ! again ! 

The palace is beset ! I 've but one shift. 
And if that fail me, then good night to all. 

Enter Andronicus, as giving orders to some within. 

And. See that the soldiers make no outrages 
Upon the palace ; there are Franks enough 
Within the city, and good pillage too. 
Set your guards round ; be sure no great ones 'scape. 
And if you take Sebastus, bore his eyes out ! 
But see ! — the Emperor ! — I must to him. Heaven 

[Goes uj:) to him, and kneels and kisseth his feet. 
Preserve your majesty, and confound your foes. 

Alex. Cousin, you're well returned, and might have 
been 
As welcome with fewer followers. However, rise ! 
Give me thy hand, and unto Heaven thy knee. 

And. Next that, unto my prince. And do not think, 

[He riseth. 
Dread sovereign, that I intend you hurt 
Although I knock'd thus rudely. All my aim 
Was to remove your wardship, and I 've done 't. 
And now you 're free — free as the air you breathe ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 139 

Make the experiment ! and, if you doubt my faith, 
Bid me return to banishment, — I 'm gone. 

Anna. I know not why, but I don't like his looks. 

[Aside. 

Alex. Cousin, I thank you, and believe you too. 
The helm requires your help ; I cannot trust it 
Into a better hand. But pray, forget 
Those injuries my father put upon you. 
I am no otherwise entitled to them 
Than as I am his son. 

And. Had they been more, 

I could have past them all, yet never cancel' d 
That double tie of loyalty and blood ! 
'Twas not his fault, but my unlucky fate, 
To have my love misconstrued ; not the burthen 
That grieved me, but the hand ; not banishment, 
But that 'twas caused by him ! However, let 
Kevenge sleep with his ashes ! I will pay 
All mine in service to your majesty ; 
And to that end have I embark'd at present. 

Alex. Pray, let me see you often ! Farewell ! 

[Exeunt Alexius and Anna. 

And. All happiness attend your Majesties ! 
Yes ! you shall see me — ay, and feel me too, 
Ere you're much elder. Th' 'ast a double crime — 
First, that th' art Emperor; next, that Manuel gat 

thee. 
Curs'd Manuel ! would thou liv'dst, I'd make thee feel 
The weight of my revenge. I scorn to raze 
Thy monument, or to ungrave thy dust ; 
I rather wish the rest of all my foes 
Entomb' d as fairly. But thy son, thy wife. 
Thy friends, or whatsoever may prop either, 
I will destroy ; and make this boy to know, 
They're fools who trust a reconciled foe. 

Enter Philo. 

How now ! what news *? Have you dispos'd the army 
Into good quarters ? Are the lords well pleased 1 
Phil. Yes ! as success can make them. And the people 



140 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Call you the public father — scarce a house 
Without its bonfire ! 

And. Then the groundwork's laid ! 

But, prithee, tell me — for I must acknowledge 
Thy management — how gat you this odd rabble 1 
Their tempers are more different than their faces — 
'Twould puzzle the devil to suit them into pairs. 

Phil. O, sir I I've ta'en more shapes than Proteus 
knew — 
Been everything to every man — divided 
And subdivided them again ! Most men 
Have their blind sides, but these are blind on both. 

And. But how didst pick them out ? 

Phil. He that will make 

Aught of the husband must begin with th' wife. 
I've dealt 'twixt bark and tree, turn'd Confessor, 
And now and then held forth ; talked of ingoings 
And of outgoings, so thin and bodyless, 
That I was forced t' assign six or seven marks 
To know it by, — twelve consequent effects. 
Nineteen persuasions, besides ways to get it — 
Innumerable. 

And. You are merry, Philo ! 

I fain would give myself the loose. Proceed ! 

Phil. And since your highness gives me leave, I 
shall 
Set out my cattle. 

I've one — but he's a scabbed sheep — a tailor, 
And he's been studying these twenty years 
A querpo * cut of government. I told him 
'Twas special good, and must be well received ! 
Another, a philosopher by fire ; 
And he has broke his brains to find the powder 
To cleanse houses of office without stinking ; 
And him I have possess'd 'tis the first step 
To the philosopher's stone — too great a thing 
For any private man. However, he 

* Close. Literally, a dress close to tlie body. 
" I would fain see him walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit, 
without his holy fur upon his back." — Dryden. 



4 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 141 

Should, as the first inventor, have the patent ! 

T' other a one-eyed cobbler, — him I humoured 

As a fit instrument to stitch a hole 

I' th' commonwealth, when in a trice he threw 

His wax to th' devil, and his awl to 's dam ! 

T' other a meal-man ; and he was for sifting 

The flour of pure doctrine from the bran 

Of superstition, which his neighbour baker 

Liked weU, and cried he 'd leave the leaven out ! 

There's scarce a trade of which I have not one. 

And, to keep all together, I 've a small Le^dte. 

He does so tew * the Pope, that man of sin. 

The whore of Babylon ; and when he takes a run 

'Gainst sense and Antichrist, the clock can't stop him ! 

And. 'Tis such a rope of sand ! Howe'er, they have 
Done their work well enough. 

Pkil. And are apt matter, 

Ready disposed for what you 'd have them next. 

And. But what was he that skuttled by my side 
As I came in ^ He went as if his head 
Would run away with 's shoulders ! 

Phil. Can you blame 

A bowl to wabble that hath lost its bias ^ 
He's been an old State-martyr. 

And. I remember him : 

He was a scribbler in the old Emperor's days. 

Phil. And has done special service for your high- 
ness — 
Not that he loves you more tlian him, but hates 
Whatever's uppermost. 

And. Then 'twere best hang him 

To please the people. 

Phil. You may do what you wiU ; 

'Tis but a halter lost. 

And. But what was he 1 

Don't you remember him that led the van, 
And stormed the citadel 1 I saw it aU ! 
Thrice he came on, and thrice beat back again ; 
But, as a happy omen to my cause, 

* Annoy. This word is still in use in tlie north of England. 



142 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Brought off th' Imperial eagle in his hand ; 

Eallied his men upon the spot again, 

Mounted the walls afresh, and leapt among 'em ; 

And, as jou 've seen a flock of sheep, when one 

Breaks through the hedge the rest straight follow him. 

So here his soldiers, as ashamed to see 

One single man give battle to the Empire, 

Leapt after him, and while you 'd say What's this 1 

Carried the place ! Canst tell me what he was 1 

Phil. Yes j he's a gentleman of noble blood. 
And if your highness please to ratify 
What I have done, the regiment is his. 

And. With all my heart, and thank him too ! Where 
ishel 

Phil. Here, in the palace, sir. 

And. Go, fetch him to me ! 

Phil. I shall! [Exit FmhO. 

And. This single soul is worth two Empires ! 
Just such another had my Manuel been. 
But that he fell too soon. For all the rest. 
How I could hate them ! What's the best of men 
That he must be beholden to such slaves ? 
But it must be ! I have a greater work 
For them to do — over their shoulders I 
Must climb th' Imperial throne, no matter how ! 
He that attempts a wickedness must lay 
Thorough a greater wickedness his way ! 
Sin sin must hide. Thus architects do roll 
Stone upon stone, and so cement the whole. 
I have my agents that shall buzz the people * 
How fit it is Alexius' youth should have 
One that may help and share in government. 
And whom more fit than I, whom every mouth 
Terms the preserver of their liberty 1 
Nor shall they want rewards ! Tush, 'tis but lent ; 
I can as easy pluck it back as squeeze 
A sponge that's full. One need not far to find 
A staff to beat a dog, nor circumstance 
To make him guilty that 's before foredoom' d ! 
* Spread secretly among the people. 



1 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 143 

Thus, when they've done, I'll throw the rod i' th' fire, 
And break the ladder when 't 'as raised me higher ! 

Enter Philo, conditcting Manuel. 

Now thou hast brought me something ! How he looks, 
As he would shake the world ! You're welcome, sir ! 
I have sent for you, first to acknowledge, next 
To thank, your valour. 

Man. 'Twas my duty, sir. 

And. Call 't what you will, I do assure you thus 

[Hugs him. 
I cherish it. And now, to let you know 
How I can value virtue where I find it, 
I ratify whatever Philo promised ! 
I've a strange curdling in my blood— what ails me 1 



Man. I thank your highness. 

Phil. So do I ; you never 

Could have bestow'd it better. 

[Philo ;plucTcs off Manuel's disguise. 

And. Ha ! what 's this % 

Some devil has assumed my Manuel's shape 
To vex my soul ; but I shall conjure him, [Draws. 
And blow this thicken' d cloud to air again. 

[Manuel kneels. 

Man. Your blessing, Eoyal sir ! Forbear, a while ! 
I am your son, your Manuel, not slain 
As was supposed. 

And. Stand up, and let me feel thee ! 

[Andronicus feels him. 
'Tis flesh, and warm ; and now I own thee too ! 
Welcome, my Manuel, to thy father, welcome ! 
Let me embrace my son ! Methinks I 'm young, 
And have snatch' d forty years from time ; my blood 
Beats high and strong again. But, prithee, tell me ! 
Twentj^ at least have sworn they saw thee fall, 
But, like thyself, opprest, not overcome. 

Man. How 'twas I fell, I know not ; but next day 
A countryman, searching to find his son 
Among the dead, found me almost one wound, 



144 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

But yet not breathless, and in charity 
Convey'd me to his house, and used me so 
As he had known whom 'twas he entertain'd. 
And that I am, next Heaven, I owe 't to him ! 

And. Philo, take care two thousand crowns be sent 
him, 
And my faith, too, to his next wish — 
He was an honest man ! 

Phil. It shall be done, my lord. 

And. Come, Manuel ! 
I'm but too happy now ! Some little mischief 
To turn this tide, lest, swelling up, it tear 
Its banks, and drown what it but thought to cheer. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene ii. 

Enter Mamalus, solus. 

Mam. Unhappy Greece, or more unhappy me, t 

That live to see this day ! How is thy sword 
Turn'd on thyself, and thine old foe invited 
Unto the funeral of thy liberty 1 
Pray Heaven, my augury prove false ! But yet 
Methinks I see a cloud hang o'er thy head. 
And, I 'm afraid, will break too soon ! That State 
Is past its zenith that ne'er learns to do 
But by undoing, and that ne'er sees order 
But where disorder shows it ! Some curst star 
Has fired the people, and our seditious peers 
Bring fuel to 't ! If one should ask them now 
What they would have, not one of them can tell, 
But praise those times of old they only heard of, 
And damn the present, though they neither know 
What 's the disease nor yet the remedy. 
And now Andronicus is the great idol. 
The father of his country, and what not ! 
A man may safer speak 'gainst Heaven than him, — 
Him, whom last year they cursed, and, ten to one. 
Will do 't again before the next be past. 



ANDRONICUS COMXENIUS. 145 

Nor will he lose his time : he knows they 're clay, 

And may be moulded to what shape he pleases. 

The people is a skittish beast, and must 

Be smooth'd and stroked till he get into the saddle. 

He's at it now ; but if he once get there, 

"Which Heaven forbid, they'll find both s^vitch and 

spur. 
His age has more of fii^e than Phaeton's youth — 
He knows no mean ; but, as his soul is large, 
So is his courage ! Think and act to him 
Are the same things, only remov'd in time. 
He 's not like others ; he was born to rule 
Within an empty sphere, — for such he'll make it, 
And christen that solitude with the name of peace ! 
Others, they're like t'ave none. 

Enter CoxTO leading Maria, Constaxtinus, 
DucAS, and Lapardus. 

But see ! my friends 
That brought him in ! Islj life, they rue it &st ! 

Omnes. Mamalus 1 well met ! 

Mam. Your lordships' servant ! 

\Tluij salute. 

Mar. And now, my lords, will you believe me next ? 
Is not Andronicus the same I promis'd ? 

Const. Yes, troth he is ! and praise can add as little 
Unto him as detraction take from him. 

Cont. But yet it does no hurt to talk a little — 
One may observe more than another does. 
It did me good to see how he receiv'd us, 
Manag'd the storm, and, when that brush was over, 
How he embrac'd us with the same even temper. 
As though he had not been concern'd at all. 
Certain he must be wise ! 

Mar. His long experience 

Must do 't, if yet it had not found him so. 

Du. And for his valour, ask the meanest soldier, 
And he will swear it was his great example 
Put courage in them all ; and, like the soul, 
Did actuate the whole and every part. 
K 



146 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Cont Most strangely liberal ! Has giv'n the fleet 
Ten thousand crowns, besides what other presents 
Has made to th' officers ! What pity 'tis 
The Empire lost so brave a man so long ; 
Or, since it has him now, age creeps upon him. 

Mar. The greater is his glory ! Had he been young, 
It had not been so much, though yet he has 
Outstript whatever I or heard or read. 
I'll vie his autumn with the pride of spring. 

Const. But hark you, gentlemen ! you don't consider 
How much work's yet to do. The Council waits us ! 
Will 't please your highness walk ] 

Mar. Lead on, my lord ! 

The Duke and I will follow. 

[Exeunt Constantinus, Conto, and Maria. 
Manent Lapardus, Ducas, and Mamalus. 

Lap. Now, my good friend. 
That are so costive of your faith, how think you 1 
Is not Andronicus a gallant person 1 

Mam. You know I told it you, and only doubted 
How long 'twas possible to keep him so. 
Then are you safe, and only then, Avhen 'tis not 
Within his power to hurt you if he would ! 
I hope you've tied him up by hand and seal, 
Though you have done no more. 

LajJ. It needed not. 

We have his honour and his oath engag'd. 

3fam. To what 1 

Du. We'U tell you that another time. 

Mam. How willingly these lords would cheat them- 
selves ! [Aside. 

Lap. Methought you said he was ambitious ; 
But I'll be sworn he is the humblest man 
I ever met with. 

Mam. And that may be pride. 

For aught we know. Who was the prouder, pray — 
Diogenes, that spurn' d at everything. 
Or Alexander, that sate out at nothing 1 * 
'Tis dangerous. There is a rule in ethics, 
* "Was never satiated with conquest. (?) 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 147 

That pride which riseth from humility 

Is hardest cured ; because the vice is grounded 

Upon the virtue, and the sin built on 

That that should be the cure. 

Lap. What should one talk 

To make an infidel a proselyte 1 
Farewell ! 

Du. Farewell ! 

Mam. My noble lords, your servant ! 

[Exeunt by several loaijs. 



Scene hi. 
Enter Andronicus and Philo. 

And. But did they relish it 1 

Phil. 'Twas not disHk'd, 

Xor much approv'd ; but yet they drank your health, 
And swore you were the best and bravest Prince 
That Greece e'er bred ! I only threw it out 
As 'twere by chance, then catch' d it back again, 
To make them follow it. What in the lump 
Wauld fright, by piecemeal giv'n goes easy down. 

And. It was discreetly manag'd ! You must ply them 
For fear it cool ! 

Phil. I warrant you 'tis done ! 

The women are all agog — they would fain see 
Another show ; besides, I've promist them 
One's husband shall be this, and t'other's that ! 
Let it ferment a while — 'twill do itself 

And. I like it well ! Leave me, and tell Basilius 
And Stephanus that I expect them here. 

[Exit Philo. 

And. What's the best workman without tools 1 I 
think 
I am fitted pretty well : the fleet mine o'svn. 
In spite of Conto, and the fool dreams it not ; 
The city sure, upon Basilius' score ; 
The guards, on Stephanus' account j the army. 



148 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Upon my own ! He that can lose tliis game, 
By my consent should never play another 1 
And why should I suspect my fortune, then ? 
Who courts her, loses her. She is a whore, 
And must he ruffled ! So will I ! She never 
Coy'd it to him that boldly offer'd at her 1 
I'll forward then ! But, as men get up-stairs, 
Step after step, 'tis somewhat long, but sure. 
He that will get through a crowd, he must 
First wedge an elbow, then a shoulder in. 
And press on still till the whole body follow. 
I must court everything, submit to all, 
Tie up myself ! Yet what of that 1 A Hon 
Is still a lion though his claws be par'd : 
They'll grow again. He that doth otherwise 
Falls foul of that odd solecism of power. 
To will the end, yet not the means endure ! 

Enter to him, Basilius and Stephanus. 

Welcome, my friends ! for that and nothing else 

Must be the name hereafter. 'Tis we three 

Must make a new triumvirate, and share 

Greece and her glory, and throw in the world 

As overweight. What is 't you may not have 

As cheap as ask 1 But give yourselves the trouble 

To wish, and 'tis your own. Is it estate 1 

The Empire and her wealth lie at your feet. 

Is it command 1 The provinces are yours. 

Is it revenge ? Mark out your head, and have it. 

Would you a beauty 1 'Twill be offer'd you. 

Wives by their husbands, daughters by their mothers. 

And to complete all this, would you have honour 1 

I am your servant, only mind yourselves ! 

What say my noble friends 1 

Ste. 'Tis seal'd and done ! 

Nor shall the fate or fortune of the Empire 
Stave it off longer. 

Bas. I have giv'n my hand. 

Nor Avould I pluck it back to save my head ; 
Nay, though the universe depended on 't. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 149 

And. Spoke like yourselves, my friends ! — [Hugs 
them.] — Thus men resolve ! 
Nothing remains but that we deal like friends ; 
That's free and plainly. Have you discours'd the 

thing 
Unto your cousin, Basilius 1 What says he 1 

Bas. Yes, and 'twill do ! But here's a gentleman 
Will scarce believe 't. 

And. And why, my Stephanus 1 

Ste. Pox o' these holy cheats ! He humm'd and 
haw'd, 
Told me a sleeveless story, could not tell 
What God might suffer, and, I know not what. 
Of dispensations and of providence. 
Pleaded his holy function ; but at last 
Promis'd neutrality and secrecy. 

And. Oh ! then he's sure enough. 

Bas. My life for yours ! 

Do you but make it law, he'll make it gospel ! 

Ste. Nay, there's no doubt he can. 

Bas. Trust me for him, 

The thing is now abrewing ! But great designs 
Are like great wheels — if once they move too fast, 
'Tis odds they fire themselves. Besides, the people 
Must not be rid too hard ; they travel best 
When they play with the bit i' their mouths — if once 

they get it 
Between their teeth, 'twill try your horsemanship ! 
A man must deal with them as we break horses. 
Show them the saddle first, then let them smell 't ; 
Lay it i' the manger ; set it on their backs. 
Your foot i' the stirrup ; let them feel your weight 
Once and again, and, as you find them coming, 
Fall gently into the saddle ; off again ! 
And use them thus but half a dozen times, 
They'll take the rest themselves. 

And. He's in the right ! 

And I had former thoughts, whether were best 
For my design the people or the nobles ; 
But have resolv'd upon the first. They're won 



150 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

With half the do, and easier kept ; engage them, 

Though never so implicitly, they drive 

Furiously on ! They're like a conjuror's de^dl — 

Find them but work enough, you need not fear them : 

Without it, 'ware yourself. Our first work, then, 

Is to divide them, and to keep them so 

Till we be safe ourselves. We must have parties 

And antiparties, factions and antifactions. 

Until they break to nothing ; then you'll have them 

Be glad of anything ! Distune a viol. 

And you may set it to what tone you please. 

Ste. But is 't not requisite your highness were 
Of every of them — at least underhand % 
One would not think what an endearment 'tis 
When they believe that he that has the power 
Is theirs, and singly theirs — it girds them to you. 

And. And what says Basilius ? 

Bas. Extremely good. 

Nay, necessary ! If the people are mad. 
He's madder far that will not be mad with them ! 
What should a sober man in drunken company 
But have his brains knockt out? 

Ste. Besides, by this 

You'll raise a dust before the grand design ! 
'Tis hard to see the bait in troubled waters. 

And. Now, you're my friends I'm sure ! I see you 
love me, [Hugs them. 

You've advis'd so true and honestly. 

Bas. On, my lord, and trust me for the city ! 

Ste. And for the guards, myself ! I'm sure I can 
Form them to anything. Nor are they mine 
But to your highness' service. 

Arid. My best friends ! [Again. 

Let's keep this knot inviolable ; and, however 
Our present actions may seem flat and dull. 
They'll credit us when they are seen at full. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 151 

Scene iv. 

Enter Philo, and four Citizens drunk 

Phil. Troth, we were merry ! Is not this better than 
Small beer and homiUes 1 

1 at. Yes j but methinks 
I cannot find my feet ! 

2 at. Nor I my head, 

But by the noise in 't ! Now, were I scholar, 
Would I confute philosophy, and prove 
The world went round. 

3 at. Faith, neighbour, at this time 
I could say somewhat to that point. 

4 at. If so, 
It had been roasted to a coal ere now ! 

Phil. Or raw, or roasted, what is that to us 1 

1 at. Ay, let it round until the spit do crack ! 
Give me more drink ! — [Knocks.'] — Sirrah ! boy ! rogue ! 

more drink ! 

Enter Drawer. 

Draw. Anon ! anon, sir ! 
Speak in the Mitre, Christopher ! Wliat lack you, 
gentlemen ? 

2 at. Some drink, you rogue ! some drink ! And 
do you hear me 1 

The best i' the cellar ! We trouble you but seldom. 
Draiv. Please you to walk up, gentlemen ? 

3 at. No j we'll take it here. 

Draw. I wait upon you presently, gentlemen. 

4 at. I've drunk enough, but I'll be rul'd ! Whoop, 
Ambrose ! 

AVhat — all-a-mort ? [Cla^js him on the shoulder. 

2 at. I am not satisfied ! 
But as a man would say, how do you ? and so forth. 

Phil. "Why, what's the matter, man ? Art thou that 
Greek 
That knockst men underboard by scores, and cry'st 
Have ye any more that must be drunkified 1 



152 ANDRONICUS COMNENIIJS. 

Enter Drawer, and fills. 

Set out your hand, or hang you ! — here's this to you ! 

4 at. I know what troubles him ! The Court is 
broke. 
And most of 'um lie leiger * in his book ! 

PMl. 'Tis not all lost — 'twill serve at last for waste- 
paper. 
If that be all, give him his drink — fill 't up ! 

2 at What was 't % 

Phil. Andronicus, his health ! 

2 at Away with 't ! [Leaves some, 

Phil. I must not bate you that ! 

4 at Come, drink it off ! 

He's a brave person ! 

2 at He's a man indeed — 
He paid me honestly. Then down it goes 

If it were a mile to bottom. Here's to thee, Greg ! 

3 at With all my heart ! He kept a princely 
house : 

One might have been drunk in his cellar with a good 
conscience — it cost a man nothing ! 
1 at The most affable man 
I never met ! You could not speak to him 
But he'd be bare as soon as you. 

4 at He ow'd me 
Some monies at his banishment ! I was paid, 
And without sending for 't : Not many courtiers 
Have such good memories. 

3 at. A few such men 

Would make tradesmen live. Bless him, say I ! 
Phil. So ! it begins to work. [Aside. 

Enter two others, drunk and singing — Ta! la! 
la ! la ! la ! la ! — To them a Fiddler. 

Plague o' these fools ! — they'U put it off again ! 

[Aside. 
Fid. Please you, have any music, gentlement ? A 

* Passive. Literally, an ambassador resident at a foreign 
court. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 153 

dainty, fine, merry, new song ! Tliere is none but I 
and my boy. Sirrah, come forth ! Where are you ? 
I have not lost you in the crowd, have 1 1 

Enter a tall well-set Fellow. 

Phil. A pretty child-chopper ! 

1, 2, 3 at. Ay, ay ! Strike up — strike up ! 

4, 5, 6 at. Scrape, rogues, scrape ! \They play. 

3 at. But shan't we have a song too 1 

Omnes. Ay — ay — ay — ay — ay ! 

Fid. A merry drinking song, and 't like your 

worships ^ 
Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! — that — that — \1ie sings. ] — 

"Fill— fill up, and"— 

Fill, fill up the bowl. 

And about let it trowl, 
'Tis a magical spell against sorrow ! 

It makes a man sing, 

Hey ! derry, derry, ding ! 
And ne'er busy his brains with to-morrow. 

'Tis the beggar's ease. 

And his charm against the fleas ; 
It recovers the man that did dwindle ! 

It makes a stiff" giant 

Both active and pliant. 
And a cripple turn round like a spindle. 

It cares not a straw 

For the Justice or his law ; 
It fears neither spies nor reporters ; 

It makes all the house 

Lie as snug as a mouse, 
And a petticoat sleep without porters. 

1 at. How now, brother ? whence came you ? 

6 at. Even from where it was, or, as a man may say. 
The more the merrier : we have been drinking 
The best man's health in Europe. 



154 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

3 CiL Then here 's to you — 

The second best ! 

6 Git. Who 's that 1 

3 at. Andronicus! 

6 Cit. 'Twas his T meant. 

5 Cit. We cannot have 't too oft. 

6 Cit. Come, then, away with 't ! 

[They drink round. 

Phil. Now 's my only time. — [Aside. 

What say you, gentlemen % You all confess 
He is a noble person 1 

Omnes. As ever liv'd. 

1 Cit. Wise ! 

3 Cit. Bounteous I 

4 Cit. Valiant ! 

2 Cit. Everything ! 

5 Cit. And deserves everything. 

6 Cit. And would he had everything ! 

Phil. Why, so ; I see 

You 're understanding men, and may be trusted. 
Look over this. [Re gives them a long roll. 

4 Cit. Here are a thousand hands. 

Phil. Yes, ten at least ! 
I'm sure 't 'as cost my lord and me five days [Aside. 
To scribble their ugly fists. 

2 Cit. Let's see what is 't 1 

1 Cit. [Beads.] " The humble petition and address of 
the citizens and inhabitants of Constantinople, — 
Showeth," etc. Hang 't — give me a pen ! I had rather 
set my hand to 't unsight and unseen than to trouble 
my head to read it over. [Subscribes. 

4 Cit. Sure, there can be no hurt in 't ; there are 
so many hands to 't. 

Phil. You may be sure of that. 

3 Cit. What is it, then? 

Phil. Why, you congratulate his safe return, 
And pray him he would assist the Emperor. 
Alas, good Prince ! he '11 have a heavy trouble of 't ! 

5 Cit. Assist ! hum ! — that is as much as to say, 
Assist — or so 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 155 

6 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ; 'tis plain. 

5 at. Not so plain as you make it, neither. Give 
me the pen ! I cannot write, but I can make a G for 
John. 

3 at. And I a K for Christopher. 

6 at. I cannot read, but I can write — when I have 
written it any one may read it ! [They all sulscrile. 

[Nine others pass the stage. 
2 at. Hoop, holiday ! What ! 's hell broke loose % 
What are you % 

Tai. Tailors, so please you, sir. 
2 at. Oh ! tailors ! One man set his mark for you 
all. 

Phil. They look like honest men ! Come, gentle- 
men ; subscribe, subscribe ! 

[They all .subscribe. 

Enter a seventh Citizen. 

7 at. How now, my masters ? Shearing of hogs 1 
All cry and no wool ? What 's the matter 1 

2 at. Subscribe, subscribe ! 

Phil. Nothing but set your hand to petition. 
7 at. For aught I know, it may be treason twenty 
years hence. Not I, beloved ! 

3 at. Not you 1 Why not you ? — will you be wiser 
than the best o' th' parish ? 

4 at. And city too — will you 1 

2 at. Show him the President's hand there. 

7 at. Oho! I'm satisfied. 

Phil. Come, come ; subscribe ! [He subscribes. 

2 at. Eut, hark you ! how shall we get this pre- 
sented 1 

Phil. The President's an honefet gentleman, and 
loves the city : I hope he will do 't. 

2 at. Away, away ! let 's to him ! 

Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! 

Fid. Please your worships to remember the music ! 

5 at. Music, you rogue ! I 'd have made better upon 
a gridiron ! 

1 at: Or I with a key and tongs. 



156 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

2 at Hang 'um — hang 'um ! we have done with 
'urn! 

Phil. There, sirrah ! [Gives him money. 

Fid. I thank your worship. 

3 at. Hold, hold ! let him do somewhat for his 
money before he goes. Has he subscribed *? 

4, 5, 6 at. No — no — no; he has not yet, but he 
shall. 

Fid. "What your worships please. — [Subscribes.'] — Is 
there any more 1 

4, 5, 6 Git. No — no — ^no ! enough, enough, good Mr. 
Scraper. [Exeunt, reeling. 



Act III. — Scene i. 

Enter Andronicus, solus. 

And. It hits, and now my work's as good as done ; 
But I must cast more blinds, for fear it be 
Too soon discover'd. One would not tliink how 't 

takes 
That I have added fifty friars to pray 
For the curst soul of Manuel ! " See his revenge, 
Good prince !" the people cry. 'Twas necessary. 
Nothing established Caesar s statues more 
Than re-erecting those of conquer'cl Pompey ! 
I must yet farther be their advocate 
For liberty against restrictive laws, 
And make whatever' s their concernment mine. 
Thus shall I steal the power, and the dull beast 
Not dream it lost until it feel where 'tis. 
Then 'twill be time, and not till then, to hew 
Th' imperial cedar, and stop the people's mouths 
With a few sticks and chips — 'twill warm their hands 
When t' other is forgot ! The dog that fought 
To save his master's wallet, when he could not M 

Defend it longer, ate for company ; ^3 

And so will they. If not, necessity, 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 157 

That has no law herself, shall coin one for it ! 
All tilings are lawful to their end : that war 
Is just that's necessary, and those arms religious 
Where a man cannot well be safe without them. 
Then shall I triumph, when I make the Empire 
Shrink at my weight and truckle under me, 
Trample the world, and frighten fate to feel 
A thread so stubborn as to twist her wheel ! 

Enter Stephanus. 

How fares my lov'd Stephanus ? 

Ste. As ever ; 

Your highness' vassal. 

And. Fie, my friend ! we're one ! 

How does our friend Basilius ^ 

Ste. He's well, 

And better employ'd. 
• And. As how 1 

Ste. He's with his cousin, 

A cunning sophister, that always followed 
The rising sun ! He now begins to find 
It may be lawful. Give him but your hand 
He shall be patriarch ; my life ! he brings 
A text to make it out ! 

And. So ; ply him there. 

And put it to him what he thinks if an oath 
Of being true and faithful to Alexius 
Were set on foot. 'Twould be a handsome cloak ! 

Ste. But do more hurt than good ; for, if you add 
His successors, — as I believe you mean, — 
We shall be ripe too soon, and easy smok'd ! 

And. Why ^ I shall be his successor, and then 
The oath will reach to me. 

Ste. That will be nothing, 

Nor stand you much in stead. Suppose you were 
Now Emperor, and 'twere now put about. 
You'd find few boggle at it but such as could 
Do you no hurt. These oaths are dangerous things : 
They conceal enemies and make no friends ! 
One will be true enough without it j t' other 



158 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Will not regard it. He that's forced to take 
An oath, straight makes a second not to keep it ! 
You're only sure of him whom, by believing 
To be what you would have him, you make so. 

And. But yet the greater number wiU swallow it. 
Oaths are the same to them as rattles to children ; 
It makes the cheat pass easy — slide, as 'twere. 

8te. Howe'er, 'tis ticklish. Some cur or other 
May find it out, and bark, and all the rest 
Open for company. Then we shall have 
Nothing but jealousies, distrusts, and fears; 
News upon news, petition on petition ; 
Laws, liberties, religion, all at stake, 
And will be lost, unless these geese, forsooth, 
Cackle, and save the capitol ! 

And. Honest Stephanus ! 

[Hugs him. 

Sfe. Your actions will be table-talk ; disputed 
In barbers' shops and bakehouses ; each slip 
Be made a fault, and every fault a crime ! 
Then shall your oath be brought upon the rack — - 
Whether 'twere lawfully imposed, or you 
Capable of receiving it ; or, if so, 
How far it binds. " No faith with tyrants !" says one. 
" With robbers ! " another cries. And then, how easy 
'Twill be to make you one or both, especially 
When they that give the sentence make the case, 
I leave it to your highness. 

And. My best friend ! 

\_Hugs him again. 
But somewhat must be done to blind the people. 

Ste. Keep them but moving, they will ne'er mind 
you; 
Do you but shake the tree, they'll pick the fruit, 
And busy enough I But lest, when all is gone, 
They should look up to see who 'twas that did it, 
You must provide your mask ; and of this kind — 
None better than religion ! Your highness 
Knows how to wear it to the best advantage. 
'Tis a rare servant, but a scurvy master ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 159 

And. Then you think best to let alone the oath — 
At least not press it 1 

Ste. Yes ; by any means — 

You'll find an hundred safer ways. 

And. We'll talk the rest within. These giddy fools 
Are hunting out Basilius, and may chance 
To 'light on me too soon ! 

Ste. I wait your highness ! 

[Exeunt. 



Scene ii. 

Enter Philo and Citizens. 

Fhil. How say you, my masters 1 Who shall make 
the speech ? 
• So many of us, and not one gifted brother 1 

2 at. Time was I could have done my part. The 
Prince — 

And no disparagement — might have heard it too. 
Phil. And ne'er the wiser. [Aside. 

3 Cit. Troth, my pump is dry ! 
Phil. This is your drinking — I have often told you. 
1 at. Have but a little patience ! Yonder's one 

Will end the controversy ! Do but observe 

How hard he wrings and squeezes. Somewhat's 

coming ! 
Fhil. What ! — he with that parenthesis about his 

mouth 1 
By no means, gentlemen ; 'tis ominous — 
Whatever comes between 't may be left out ! 

4 at. Tm satisfied ; 'tis but a good speech lost ! 
Good master Philo, be that office yours. 

Omnes. A Philo !— A Philo !— Philo !— Philo ! 
Fhil. Ay, now the matter 's mended. 
Omnes. Give 't him — give 't him ! 

[^They give him the ^petition. 
Fhil. Well, if I must, what remedy 1 
Omnes. He comes ! 



160 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Enter Basilius. 

Phil. Save you, most worthy sir ! I am commanded 
By the inhabitants and citizens 
Of this great city to present you this, 
And beg your favour and assistance in 't. 

\_Delivers the roll. Basilius reads to himself. 

1 at. Hang the rogue, how he trowls it out ! 

2 at. His tongue runs on wheels ! 

Bas. In troth, my masters, 'tis a noble thing, 
And well advis'd — nay, and becoming men 
That love their country ! But I'm half afraid 
He'll not accept it ; he's so humble-minded. 
You'll hardly draw him to 't ! Howe'er, I'll try. 

Omnes. We thank your honour. 

1 at. I hope you will prevail. 

2 at. I should be sorry else. 

5 at So should I that e'er I set my hand to 't. 

Enter Andronicus. 

Phil. Stand off ! he comes himself ! 
Long live your highness ! 

Omnes. Long live the founder of our liberty ! ' 

And. I thank you, gentlemen. But may I serve you? 

Omnes. Long live the public Father ! — Live An- 
dronicus ! 

Bas. My lord, these gentlemen — ^both in their own 
And friends' behalf — have made me promise them 
That I'd present you this — \_delivers the roll.'] — Nor must 

your highness 
Make me denial. Their request is short, — 
That you'd be pleas'd to ease Alexius' years 
By bearing half the burden of the crown. 
Nor do I think you will disdain a part. 
Though you deserve the whole. And thus, of old, 
The Eoman Senate to Marcellus join'd 
Delaying Fabius * — age and youth together — 
A wholesome mixture, where the one brought eyes. 
The other hands — this, action ; he, advice ! 
* Fabius, Cunctator. 



1 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 161 

Thus must the body of the Grecian State 
Be wisely temper'd, lest we rue 't too late ! 

And. What kind of voice is this I hear ? My frieads 
Either forget, or know not what they ask. 
Joint Emperor ! Were there no treason in 't, 
I must not hearken to 't ! Who would be clogg'd 
With gyves, though made of gold? — for such are 

crowns — 
Or stoop to take one up that knew the weight of 't % 
Crowns are thick set with cares — for every gem 
An hundred doubts and troubles ! Nor are their 

ermine 
More spotted than their fate -, whilst privacy 
Lies low, 'tis true, but yet that low is safe. 
Thunder ploughs up the hills when valleys 'scape, 
And rives tall cedars when the shrubs go free ! 
Sleep dwells in cottages, not thrones — content 
In humble cells ; whilst greatness is at odds 
With everything, nay, and itself to boot ! 
Let others grasp at all, and by great pains 
Aspire to greater ! Let them vex the world ; 
They but disquiet themselves. He only lives 
That's beneath envy and above contempt. 
Be it enough that I have served my country 
Thus long ; that I have freed her from the yoke ; 
Broke all her fetters ! You have had my youth j 
Let me enjoy my age ! 'Twere too severe 
To have had one and yet deny me t' other. 

Phil. That was well hinted, master. Excellent fox ! 

\_Aside. 

Omnes. Andronicus ! Andronicus ! Long live An- 
dronicus ! 

5 at. We've brought ourselves into a dainty noose. 

1 at Good sir, persuade him ! 

Bas. I must not leave your highness so. 
Whom can Greece think more worthy than yourself? 
Where should she pay most but where most is owing"? 
Let me prevail, my lord ! This day shall be 
Writ in a scarlet text, since hence we date 
The happiness and new birthday of the State ! 
L 



162 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

And. 'Tis strange, my friends, that you should press 
me thus, 
And put my modesty to a blush ! Can Greece 
So far forget herself? — can Greece, so full 
Of able Statesmen^ Greece o'ershoot herself 1 
Who hath bewitcht thee ? With what spectacles 
Didst thou look on my merit, that th' 'ast made 
So fair a letter in so small a print 1 
Andronicus deserve a crown ! Alas ! 
Greece is mistook ! I have one foot i' th' grave ; 
And can you think it sightly to behold 
The other in a throne % No ! Graves and thrones 
Hold least proportion. You say you love me ! 
Show 't now, and dazzle not those eyes again 
Which I thought shut to vanity. I am 
Content, and what can Providence add more % 
Not that I tell you this as I were lazy. 
Or sullen, or refus'd to serve my country ! 
Far be it from me ! No — we were not born 
To live like hedgehogs, roll'd in our own down. 
And turn out bristles to all the world besides : 
Yet must we die t' ourselves ; and so let me. 
Whose age may challenge a writ of ease, and crave 
Leave of the world to let me mind my grave ! 

Omnes. Andronicus ! Andronicus ! Long live An- 
dronicus ! 

Ph. 'Tis all in vain to press him now. We'll find 
Some other time, when he shall not deny us. 

\Exeunt with a shout. Manet Andronicus. 

And. What is this giddy multitude % — this beast 
Of many heads % — this thing vox populi ? 
It can do all — as much or more than fate : 
Raise and pull down, make and annihilate ! 
Yet see, how easy 'tis to cast a gloss 
Before those vulgar eyes — those leaden souls 
Begotten in a dream ! Ex traduce — 
How natural is it for fire to climb ! 
And could they think a man — nay, more, a Prince — 
Born near a crown, of such a frozen spirit 
That Empire could not thaw 1 Come, come ! I must 



1 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 163 

Play my cards handsomely ; and though I yield — 

As who would not 1 — make them believe it is 

Through importunity, not my desire ! 

I'll slip the vizard first, then let it hang 

Till it fall off of 'tself ! Thus, while they woo, 

I'll have my ends, and they beholding, too ! [Exit 



Scene hi. 
Enter Conto, Lapardas, and DucAS. 

Conf. Observ'd you not the tumult? I've scarce heard 
A fuller cry ! I wonder what it means ! 

La. Where has your lordship been 1 — nothing, but 
treason, 
Is more familiar ! 'Tis a petition 
To have Andronicus joint Emperor ! 

Eu. And backt, they say, with twenty thousand hands, 
Besides some great ones ! But, to give him's due. 
He has refus'd it. If he ha'n't, I'll swear 
Mamalus was a witch ! 

Conf. Why, what of him ? 

La. His name slipt from me unawares. Good faith, 
He guess'd at this, unluckily, long since ! 
But make no words of 't ; it may do him wrong. 

Coni 'Tis spoken to a stone ; yet, troth, I'm glad 
He has denied it. Say he should be honest 1 

Eu. I cannot see his drifts. Would he have took it, 
' He might have had it now ere it took air, 
And we in no condition to prevent it. 

La. What say you if we went and waited on him. 
Took notice of the thing, and thankt his virtue ? 

Cont. I like it well ! 

Eu. Then let us not delay it ! 

\_As they are going out they are met and stopf by 
Maria, Constantinus, aiid Mamalus. 

Mar. My lords, well met ! But whither 1 You are 
posting 
Who shall be first to kiss the rising sun 1 



164 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

La. No, no; there's nothing in 't. Besides, you, 
madam, 
Know we've his honour and his oath engag'd ! 

Mar. Oh ! w' hear you have ! And yet I'll scarce 
believe. 
Though I have reason to suspect, he'll break them ! 

Du. There is hope yet — he has refus'd the offer ! 

Mam. To make them hotter on 't. Good gentleman, 
He's modest, and may chance to want entreaty. 

Const. Perhaps the cry was faint and weak ! There 
wanted 
More curs to yelp, and hounds to mouth it out ! 
It was some time before he join'd with us ; 
But yet at last you saw 

Mam. I fear me, more 

Than you'll be fairly rid on. Enemies 
Are ten times easier kept out than thrown out ! ^ 

Mar. But had this rabble no head'? He is too 
cunning 
To trust a giddy multitude ! 

Const, They say 

It was the city president ! 

Cont. Most likely- 

He's one that would be great, at any rate. 

Const Ay, here's the hand, but where's the spring 
that moves it % 

Mam. The cobweb doth not cover the spider so 
But I can see him work. Tliis must be old 
Basilius ; I trace him by his cousin ! 
They two are hand and glove ; only, one acts 
What t'other's asham'd to own ! That holy men 
Must, like the holy language, be thus read backward ! 

Mar. But what would make him do 't 1 I'm sure 
my father 
Preferr'd him well ! 

Mam. But can he make him Patriarch 1 
You'll say he's dead, and can't ; then blame him not 
To strike up interest with him that may. 
T'other's forgot. Besides, ambitious men. 
When they stand still, fancy they're going back. 



I 



J 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 165 

Thus, much he has already only tells him 

How much more's wanting ; and what was a sum 

In the desire, enjoy'd is but a cipher ! 

Mar. Prithee, Mamalus, do not draw the devil 
More ugly than he is ! 

Mam. Nor you, good madam. 

Believe him fairer ! Don't we know the tree 
By its fruit, and judge of men by actions. 
Not fair pretences'? You forget our proverb — 
Remember to distrust ! This easy faith 
Has done more mischief than it e'er did good. 

La. Had we believ'd your words, this had ne'er been. 

Mam. As how, my leaky lord ] These bor'd barrels ! 

[Aside. 

La. Nay, be not angry, man ! We are all friends, 
And may be free ! We'll live and die together ! 

Mar. No heats among ourselves, good gentlemen ! 
[Andronicus from hehind the hangings. 

And. Yonder they are, i'faith ! I'll stumble on them ! 
Now for a neat disguise, and all's my own ! 

[A shout within. 

Mar. Hark ! hark ! What's this 1 

Mam. Ev'n the old rout again ! 
This will be somewhat at last, or I'm mistaken ! 

Enter Andronicus, as angry, and speaking to 
some within. 

And. Plague of these fools, and those that set them 
on ! 
What do they trouble me 1 Tell them I cannot, 
Or if I could I would not ! Have they none 
To bait but me 1 

Mar. Save your good majesty ! 

And. My friends, and all ! Is this the thanks you 
give me ? — 
This the reward I have *? Who but a madman 
Would serve his country 1 Who would warm a snake 
That knew its nature 1 For such 'tis to me ! 
Was 't your design, when first you call'd me home, 
To make me miserable that made you happy 1 



166 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Who courted you 1 Did 1 1 No ! Heaven knows 

'Twas otherwise ! If not, you, madam, can 

Be my compurgatrix. Nor think it strange 

I talk this rate. Your ugly jealousy, 

As closely as you carry 't, is cause enough. 

Nay, I am right — I found it in your looks 

Before this lady spake it. Is 't my crime 

The people's mad 1 — or must my innocence 

Suffer because they know not what they would 1 

You'll say, perhaps, I have been offer'd Empire ! 

But have I took it 1 That I might have been. 

And am not, judge yourselves whether it speaks 

My virtue more or your ingratitude. 

Would he that told the people's heat had told you 

My frosty answer : that had done me right 1 

But now I see good deeds are writ in ice, 

And the least groundless jealousy in steel. 

Let me remember once — but to forget it 

Ever hereafter — I have serv'd you truly, 

Done myself injury to be kind to you. 

And wrought my own disquiet to lighten yours. 

You know necessity first made me arm ; 

And, by whatever's good, there's nothing less 

Shall make me keep it up 1 Then doubt not him 

Whom you have tried. Could you believe I would 1 

Certain you could not ! 

La. My lord, I'm satisfied; and thank your highness 
You took the pains to do 't 

Crnit. The same am I. 

Omnes. And all of us. [Ma^l^lus skews his lip. 

And. Then pray continue so 

Until you find me otherwise. 

Omnes. We shall. 

Your highness. [Exeunt 

And. Madam, 111 wait on you ; 
But I must chide you first ! You've been unkind ; 
Good faith, you have. Distrust a friend 1 Nay, one 
You knew so long, and might so well command I 
I ha'n't deserv'd it. 

Mar. Good my lord, forgive me ! 



ANDROXICUS COMNENIUS. 167 

I lov'd my brother well, and was afraid 
What such a tumult might 

And. Hang them ! D'you tliink 

I'd ruin what you, the glory of your sex, 
Took so much pains to save % 

Mar. Nay, good my lord ! 

And. I'm yet too low. Th' 'ast a brave noble soul. 
And such as might redeem a perisht world, 
But that 'tis done already. 

Mar. Nay — now — my lord ! 

And. I've done ! But shall I never see the noble 
Csesar, 
Your husband, here 1 I'm sure the Empire wants him ! 

Mar. I would you could, but I'm afraid you won't ; 
His ague hath so shaken him in pieces ! 

Aiid. I'm sorry for 't. He ne'er was well together. 

[Aside. 
He has my prayers and wishes. 

Mar, Thank your lordship. [Exeunt. 



Scene iy. 
Enter Manuel and Philo. 

Man. But tell me, Philo — prithee, tell me how 
Thou cam'st in this great credit with my father % 

Phil. Oh, sir, I've been his servant many years. 
He bred me from a boy to what you see — 
Trust and employment can do mighty things ! 

Man. How gatst th' into that trust ? 

Phil. As other men : 

By seeming fool, yet such a one as might be 
Fit matter for the knave ; by bearing injuries, 
And thanking them — at least, dissembling — 
Till I had power to act a safe revenge. 

Man. Suppose that never came % 

Phil. Then I forgave them. 

Man. I see th' 'ast studied the point. Prithee, 
teach me 



168 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Some of those little arts. 

Phil Call you them little % 

As little as they are, they govern the world. 

Man. 'Tis well 'tis ignorant how little governs it. 
But on ! 

Phil. Since 'tis your pleasure, I shall. Who would 
Grow to an oak, he must be first a twig. 
Supple and pliant, bow with every wind ; 
He's long a growing up, but sure to stand 
When t'other shows his roots. He must speak well 
Of all in place, no matter what they are — 
It is enough they're there. 

Nature ne'er made so great a beast but somewhat 
Might be said for it. Is the subject dirty ? — 
Wrap 't in clean linen. For example, now — 
Is he a downright fool 1 — call him good-natur'd. 
A babbler, sociable ; a railler, witty ; 
If scoffing, pleasant ; if malicious, subtle ; 
If vicious, affable ; if foolhardy, daring : 
If given to ribaldry, a merry gentleman ; 
All noise, a learned man ; if he says nothing, 
He thinks the more, and has a working brain ; 
If impudent, a handsome confidence ! 
They're very near allied, and only differ 
I' the success. Is he thick-skulled and stupid ? — 
A modest man, and has an excellent wit. 
But an odd art of keeping 't to himself. 
What though the shop be thin? — the warehouse 

has 't. 
Has he the Statesman's tread 1 — a wise man, no doubt. 
If we perceive a river run dark and slow, 
We straight pronounce it deep, and ne'er examine 
Whether the mud at bottom be the cause. 
Is he all apophthegm 1 — a shrewd man. 
What matter though he want a trifling circumstance 
Of sense and pertinence- — what's that to us % 
What hurt's in all this ? Do not we call 
Our pretty ladies civil obliging women ? 
And shall we be less modest to their husbands '? 

Man. How have I liv'd i' th' dark ! I always call'd 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 169 

A spade a spade ; but now I see my knave's 
Your thriving man. 

PML Believe them what you please, 

But treat them like honest men — t'other's so broad. 
And what's your lordship better when you've done 't ? 
They know 't as well as you. 

Man. Th' art a rare fellow ! 

Thou that hast this hast mora 

Phil. Why, troth, not much ! 

He must swear everything, and, if need be, 
Forswear 't again ; but still beware it be 
Done with a tenderness. He must own nothing 
Laid by, nor boggle at anything cried up ; 
And for his conscience, he must split the hair 
'Twixt techy and prostitute. The one 
Flies in his face, the other makes him cheap. 
Lastly, for his religion, since 'tis necessary 
He have a show at least, chuse 't, as men bells, 
By the sound, or we our magistrates, by th' poll. 

Man. But does the world do this ? 

Phil. How think you, sir 1 

Do they eat, drink, or sleep ? 

Man. Wherever I come 

I find it damn'd ! 

Phil. And reason good. The people 

May chance to smoke it else. Who first discover'd it 
Put teeth in the sheeps' mouths ! You cannot fleece 

them 
Now but they'll bite ! No ! he must still decry it ; 
But to believe liimself, not worth his while. 

Man. And dost not thou^ What pity 'tis these parts 
Should be thus lost in low, ignoble arts !— 
Such little nothings ! Leave them — I'll prefer thee ! 

Phil. Defend me from a lecture ! — [Aside.'] — 'Tis no 
more 
Than what my betters have done, and thriv'd by, too. 

Man. Yet, let me beg thee, leave it. What is got 
By such base means is but an empty blaze — 
Crackles a while in talk, but quickly gone ! 
'Tis not too late for to be virtuous yet. 



170 ANDRONICUS COMNENIirs. 

What's done already may have rather been 
The vice of thy employment than thy nature. 
What say'st thou, man 1 

Phil. I was ne'er obstinate. 

Man. Let me instruct thee, then. And yet, Heav'n 
knows, 
How much I want myself, yet I may serve 
To light a candle to thee. Couldst thou but see 
What virtue were, thou wouldst prevent my wish. 
Tis a continual spring and harvest both — 
Bears fruits and blossoms, sows and reaps at once, 
So quick is the return, and certain, too ! 
And as in equal temperatures the pulse 
Beats true and even, so here she's still the same — 
Not swol'n with good things nor cast down with bad ; 
Free, without cheapness ; composed, without formality ; 
Calm, without dulness ; active, without weariness ; 
And, in the want of everything, is all ! 
How sayest thou, Philo 1 Wilt thou have her, man 1 

Phil. ISi o ready money, sir '? Half one, half t' other. 
Were somewhat like. I hearken to your lordship. 

Man. Whose are the quiet sleeps but the virtuous 1 
Who valiant but they 1 — not brutish valour. 
But such as dare die in cold blood. 
Who honourable but they 1 Honour, without virtue. 
Is what the people pleases, not our own. 
Who are religious but they "? Without it, 
Religion's but a soul without a body, 
A painted butterfly, a specious nothing ; 
Whilst join'd, they make a perfect harmony. 
This is a virtuous man — fear neither drives him 
Nor favour draws aside ; he values not 
The curled wrinkles of a tyrant's brow ; 
He's still serene, and tires as well the wit 
As power of torture, and enjoys them too. 
Such is his man's estate ; and when old age 
Has seized the outworks, he's secure within, 
And is so far from wishing youth again, 
He's only sorry that he e'er was young ! 
Come, I must make thee virtuous ! Follow me ! [Exit. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 171 

Phil. I cannot tell, 

[As he is going out Philo speaks aside. 
But I half doubt myself. 

One such a lecture more, — and good night, master ! 
Farewell, good, honest Philo ! — How it sounds ! 

[He startles. 
Had I a puling gizzard now, 'twere done ; 
But — soft and fair goes far. \_Exit. 



Scene v. 

Enter Andronicus, Stephanus, and Basilius. 

Shouts within. 

And. What would you have me do 1 

Ste. Troth, play no longer ! — 

Pardon the language, — they are all agog. 
And may do mischief 

Bas. If you slip this minute, 

You may wait long enough ere you get another. 
If once they settle, all our labour 's lost — 
They'll understand themselves. Besides, you're gone 
Too far to go no farther. 

And. You mistake me ; 

I am resolved upon it. What before 
Look'd like ambition is but safety now. 
I only stop'd awhile, as doubting whether 
'Twere fit t' accept it yet. 

Ste. What said the Lords 1 

And. Most satisfied ; only Mamalus's face 
Spake more than his tongue durst. 

Bas. Puh ! he's but one, 

And may be made ; at least be taken off, 
By the old way — preferment, or his head. 

And. But there are others, and not least concern'd. — 
The sober party, that have stakes to lose. 
The age is too refined for men to walk 
Invisible. They ha'n't been dealt with yet. 

Ste. 'Tis one o' th' greatest follies in the world 



172 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

For to believe the world wiser than 'tis. 
Call me a junto ! They shall do it for you ! 
You'll ne'er want men until you want preferment. 

And. That were to let them see I needed them — 
Put a sword in their hands, and make myself 
Less than I am, them more than they should. 

Bas. How will y' avoid it ? There is no other way 
To fix and settle. Then you'll plead consent ; 
Nor will it be difficult to bring them to 't. 
The people are like sheep — 'tis better driving 
A flock than one. 

And. But say they should prove sullen 1 — 

Unravel my title 1 

Ste. You must venture that ; 

'Tis easy turning them to grass again. 
By all means let them meet, though they do nothing 
But set the rates of tripes and pudding pies. 

And. Well, be it so. And now, my friend, you may 
Rally your rabble-regiment again ! 
Tell them — I accept it. [Exit Basilius. 

Ste. ril secure your highness 

They shall not squabble for want of work 1 Myself 
Has cut out more than they'll make up in haste. 
Nor shall their speed be more than we think good ; 
Whilst, though wise men propose, fools must debate it. 

[Shout within, 
hugs Mm.'\— 
Let's keep here. 
All will be well enough ! And though I cannot 
Make the deaf adder hear, I'll be sure this— 
To charm him so, he shall not dare to hiss ! [Exeunt. 
[Shouts imthin, p'oclaiming Andronicus. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 173 

Act IV. — Scene i. 
Enter Alexius and Andronicus. 

Alex. No longer cousin now, but dearest brother, 
You're welcome to a burthen, and I'm glad 
I've got so good a partner in the throne ! 

And. Great sir, I thank you, and — have been so 
used 
To downright honesty — I believe you too ! 
It is enough to me that I'm your servant, 
The partner of your cares and not your throne ! 
Yet who'd be great, when at the best 'tis but 
A better sort of slavery, a handsome gaol. 
And — what the worst of gaols is free from — envied 1 
Could you believe that in this Httle time 
I should be struck at, and through your sides too % 
What is my fault % If to have done them good 
Be such, 'tis mine. If to have broke my rest. 
That they might sleep secure, be crime, I'm guilty. 

Alex. Alas ! I'm sorry for 't, and cannot yet 
Conjecture what you mean. 

And. Please you, read this. 

[Andronicus gives him a paper. 

Alex. How's this 1 

Belgrade betrayed unto the King of Hungary ? 

And. It should have been ; and had not I stalk'd 
with them, 
It had been now too late to ask whose work 'twas. 

Alex. What are the persons? They must be con- 
siderable. 

And. And so they are. 

Alex. But have you taken any 1 

And. Yes, divers j and on one a council of war 
Has pass'd and sentenced. Please you, sign the war- 
rant 1 

Alex. Gi' me 't j and, lest relation may sway me, 
I'll ne'er inquire the name. — [Signs z7.] — Yet let me 
see 't ! 



174 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

How now ! — What's this "l — My mother Empress ? — 

Hold! 
Make me a Nero ? — Take away her life 
That gave me mine 1 

And. Have but a little patience, 

And if I don't convince you, o' my honour 
I'll give 't you back again. Consider it — 
A frontier, a whole province in effect, 
A little kingdom ! — All the fate of Greece 
Attends its fortune. 

Alex. But we have it still. 

And. What matter is 't 1 Then you believe no 
treason 
Unless the Prince be kill'd 1 

Alex. But 'tis my mother ! 

And. Justice respects no persons, crowns, no 
kindred ; 
And fathers of their country know no mothers ! 

Alex. As if one could not be a Prince unless 
He put off man ! Come ; you are too severe ! 
She is my mother ! — Let a cloister serve. 

And. Severe 1 Know I'm joint Emperor, and can 
Do it myself, but that I would not rob you 
The glory of the action. This will break 
The neck of treason, when the age shall see 
Such signal justice done upon a mother. 

Alex. That shall not I. 

And. Then let the Empire sink ! 

I'll never mind it more, nor break my sleep 
To force a happiness on one that slights it ! 
Here — take your paper ! but lest it be said 
You did once well and straight repented it, 
I thus dispose it. [Tears a wrong paper and hums it. 

Alex. 'Tis all one. I thank you ! \_Exit. 

And. 'Tis done ! and your game's next ! See — here's 
the warrant ! 
'Twas a wrong paper burnt ! What excellent mortar 
Blood makes ! Eome batten'd in 't, and, from the ruins 
Of Alba and the slaughter'd world, grew up 
To what she was : and so must I the same. 



\ 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 175 

'Tis not enough that I'm got up myself, 

But I must beat down others — level all 

That stand before or near me ! I'm not safe 

While young Alexius lives, or — which is worse — 

Has a friend left him. He has many, and great ones, 

And might be worth my fear could they but fix 

Or know their strength. But there are only two 

Considerable ; that's Constantinus and Mamalus — 

Honest and able both. For all the rest. 

Would all my friends were what they think themselves, 

My enemies, what they are ! Yet, as they are. 

They made me what I am, and may again 

Crush me to nothing if I don't prevent them 

By giving the first blow, and putting 't home ! 

Thus, thus it must. Nor can I sleep secure 

Till they have slept their last, and fall together 

Wrapt in one common fate. None ever rack'd 

A grave to find the man he fear'd or hated. 

The rest mil follow. 'Tis but using well 

The present time, and working on emergencies. 

Things counsel men, and not men counsel things ! 

Enter Manuel. 

How now, my Manuel ? Thus you see my pains 
To make you happy ! 

Man. Would yourself were such ! 

A7id. Small time will do 't — Rome was not built at 
once ! 

Man. And better she'd continued cottage still. 
Than built on rapine, or enlarged with blood. 
The tears of orphans and the curse of widows 
Rot not i' th' air ! 

And. Away, you fool ! The fox 

Fares best when he is curst. 'Tis a sure sign 
H' 'as done his work. But to be serious — Tell me 
Whether a man may not preserve himself? 
Or whether all things that are tending to 't 
May not be lawful, at least excusable 1 

Man. Thereafter, as they are ; though this I'll grant 
you— 



176 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Peace without safety is a bare cessation, 
No laying do^vn of arms. 

And, Th"ast hit the nail ! 

Come ! you must help me. See this executed ! 

[Gives Manuel the warrant Manuel startles. 
What makes you startle 1 Let me have it done ! 

Man. Done ! Were I satisfied o' th' crime — which 
yet, 
The people say, was rather packt than proved, — 
There's no such dearth of hangmen that your son 
Need take the office. 

And. Stranger to my blood, 

And never true begot ! 

Have I for this run through so many hazards 1 
Ventured so far to make a villain great 
That never had a soul above a dunghill 1 
See it be done, and quickly ! or— — 

Man. I cannot ; 

And, which is more, I shall not ! Disobedience 
Is virtue here. If you suspect my courage, 
Try 't yet again. Show me your enemy. 
And, were he guarded with ten thousand devils, 
I'll through and through but I will reach his head. 
Or lose my own ! But this — is such a thing. 
Honour and conscience, justice, all forbid it ! 

And. What are those private toys to me? Kings may 
Do what they list. 

Man. But can they do 't by law ? 

Aiid. By law, you blockhead ! Doth not Justice sit 
At Jupiter's elbow 1 What cannot power do. 
And justify 't when done 1 He that can nothing 
But what is lawful, reigns by courtesy. 
Besides, what use of laws 1 Good kings may live 
Without them ; bad ones will not much regard them. 
Had Alexander squared his actions 
By common justice, he had never wept 
The want of worlds. Or had Eome giv'n back 
To every one their own, how had she sate — 
Like ^sop's jay — stript of her pilfer'd plumes, 
And fairly march'd to her first huts again ! 



I 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 177 

Weigh crowns by th' balance, and you'll make fine 

work ! 
Preach laws to sword-men ! Out ! [Exit Manuel. 

At another door, enter Stephanus. 

This squeamish slave 

Will be my ruin, and his own in mine ! 

Welcome, my better self ! You must see this 

[Andronicus gives Stephanus the warrant 
for execution. 
Despatch' d, and quickly ! If the people grumble, 
Produce your warrant. Tell them how hard I stood 
To have preserv'd her, but I could not do 't. 
How says my Stephanus ? 

Enter Philo. 

Ste. I say — 'tis done ! 
• And. 'Twas my good angel's voice. Good luck 
attend it ! 

[Exit Stephanus. 
Now, honest Philo ! how goes your work on 1 

Phil. As well as heart can wish — the stag is lodg'd, 
And my hounds ready. 

And. But dost know them well 1 

Have they been enter' d, flush'd in blood before ? 
I hate the fearful hands. 

Phil. Ne'er doubt them, sir. 

There's not a man among them but has been 
Kick'd out of all the sanctuaries in Europe. 
Whoever speaks of young Alexius next 
Shall only say. He was ! 

And. 'Twas bravely said ! 

Come — we have more to do ! [Exeunt. 



178 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 



Scene ii. 

Enter Conto, Lapardus, Ducas, Constantinus, 
and Mamalus. 

Cont. We have done well, my lords ; we've made a 
rod 
To whip ourselves ! Right ^sop's frogs, i' faith ! 
We must be changing ! Nay ; 'tis well enough. 

Lajp. For why, my lord? I'm sure my thoughts 
were clear 
As spotless crystal ! Could I conceive one drop 
Of blood within me traitorous, it should out, 
Though 'twere that next my heart ! 

Du. The same were mine ! 

I only meant to use him as a purge 
To carry ill humours, not our spirits, off. 

Const. A fit comparison ! We're purg'd indeed — 
The remedy proves worse than the disease ! 

Mam. Ay ; you o'ershot the mark ! Ere he came in 
He was your creature, but your master now. 

Const. Where is this perjur'd villain 1 Sure he be- 
lieves 
The bottomless bag — that lovers' and traitors' oaths 
Are lodged together ! — [Shouts.'] — The devil 's in this 

rout ! — 
More shouting yet 1 

Lap. And more is like to be. 

'Tis thought when fuel fails, they'll pluck down 

houses 
To keep the bonfires up ! Did not your lordship 
See the instalment 1 

Const. No ; but I have heard 

'Twas very splendid. 

Cont. Yes ; as art could make it. 

Mam. So 't should ; the trappings of the President's 
horse 
Is more than half i' th' government o' th' city. 

Const. But have you seen no public acts of late ? 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 179 

The -sdzard is half off, the names transpos'd — 
Andronicus first, and then Alexius ! 

Mam. And reason good. Should not the figure 
stand 
Before the cipher 1 Caesar and Bibulus ! 
One does all, t'other drinks all ! 

Lap. Could he yet stop, 

There might be hopes. 

Mam. Small hopes. Ambition 

Is ne'er so high but she still thinks to mount. 
That station, which lately seem'd the top. 
Is but a step to her now ; and what before 
Was even beyond her wish, being once in power. 
Seems low and cheap. If I mistake it not, 
The Emperor yet lives ; and though he is 
But the bare shadow of a swelling name. 
Can you believe Andronicus will brook 
An equal in authority 1 Is Andronicus 
No better known 1 Well, my good lords, what say 

you? 
Please you to give me leave, and I'll propose 
A short expedient 1 

Omnes. With all our hearts ! 

Mam. And you engage, however you dislike it, 
Not to discourse 't abroad % 

Omnes. Upon our honours ! 

Mam. Then thus: He's yet unsettled. Heavy bodies, 
Once mov'd, retain a trembling ere they fix. 
So here. The Empire's in a strange confusion, 
And 'tis his interest to keep it so. 
Now what I offer is this — that every one 
Pick out his faction, and oblige it to him. 
Get but so far into them as to please them. 
You have 'm sure enough. The power to raise them 
Follows of course. Then shall we fall upon him 
Ere he have time to think, and break his neck 
By the same hand that set it ! 

Const. I like it well ; 

But cannot judge it safe to trust a tumult 
Unless we had a body to make a stand. 



180 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Mam. Nor will we want it — we'll but use the people 
As a forlorn. And for the rest, what think you 
Of Stephanus % I'll pawn my head I make him. 

Const. Impossible ! He was the chiefest person 
Set t'other up. 

Mam. But what has he done for him ? 

He's but the same he was ; and, which makes for us, 
Has equals, if not superiors, in favour. 
I know his spirit can never brook it long. 
Do you but give the word, I'll run the hazard. 

Const. How say ye, my lords ? 

Omnes. Worthy Mamalus, 

You have our hearts, and thanks, and wishes to 't ! 

Ente7^ Maria, as in haste. 

Const. See ! here's more news ! I do not like the 
haste. 

Mar. Help ! help ! my lords ! — The Emperor and 's 
mother ! 

Omnes. What of them ? 

Mar. Oh ! dead ! dead ! dead ! — Murder'd 1 

That ever earth should bear so curst a traitor ! — 
Such a false, treacherous, perfidious slave ! 
And, which is worse than all, the people cry 
A judgment on him for his mother's death ! 

Const. How ! — what's all this 1 Good madam, divide 
jouT grief. 
And let us bear a part ! 

Mar. I know not what 'tis — 

Eeports are various ; but they say he sign'd 
A warrant for his mother's execution 
For a suppos'd betraying of Belgrade, 
And since has broke his neck by a fall from 's horse 
As he was hunting ! There are others, again. 
Say he was bow-string'd ! Oh ! this curs'd string, 
That murders more than e'er the bow kill'd fairly ! 
That I could see him yet ! 

Then thus I throw off woman, and bury my tears 
In my revenge ! Come, lords ! Let 't ne'er be said 
There's nothing left us of our former greatness 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 18l 

But fame and ruin ! Let it ne'er be spoke, 
Greece is grown barbarous, and the merry Greek 
Has drown'd the valiant ! 

Const. Most excellent madam ! 

Mar. Come, let's forgive — ourselves, I mean — that 
crime 
Of ignorance and well-meaning. We that were 
The stairs that helpt him up, our backs the steps 
By which he climb'd, how are we trampled on ! 
Come, come, my lords ! 'Tis time we look about us, 
And ward the threat'ning blow ! Let's but agree, 
And our work's done ! The tortoise is secure 
Within her shell ; if any part lie out, 
It dangers all the rest ! What says Mamalus 1 

Mam. What ! But that he owes 
Himself and his unto your higliness' courage ! 
We had half drove the nail ere you came in ; 
But now 'tis riveted ! There remains nothingr 
But that we thank your highness, and keep to it. 

Const. Well mov'd ! Let's on ! 

Mar. Do ! and you'll find the lion 

Is not so terrible as the painter makes him. 

Lap. Du. Agreed ! agreed ! Let's on ! 

Mar. Bravely resolv'd ! 

Stars have their strongest influence in conjunction ! 

[A clap or two of thunder. 

Const. Hark ! hark ! — the voice of Heaven ! 'T 'as 
answer'd us, 
And seal'd the enterprise ! And when I fail it, 
Let Heaven strike me as I this earth ! 

Enter Philo with a guard. 

Phil Stand ! — Treason ! — Seize them ! 
Mar. Seize me ! For what ] 
Phil. Oh ! your highness, 

The Emperor will discharge you presently. 
Const. Unhand me, villain ! Take that ! 

[CoNSTANTiNUS biochs om of the guard 

down. After a shmi scuffle, all seized. 

Phil. So, so ! Away with them ! [Exeunt. 



182 andronicus comnenius. 

Scene hi. 

Enter Andronicus, solus. 

And. Now I can say I live, and not till now. 
I've elbow-room enough, and space to breathe : 
I can look round me, too. There's not a tree 
That stopt my prospect but I've levell'd it — 
At least, am fairly onward. Not a mote 
Hung in my light but I have swept it down. 
Now, could the subtilest overgrown devil. 
Whom age had render'd all experiment. 
Done it more cleverly % These foolish lords, 
Like ^sop's trees, have lent the axe an helve* 
To hew themselves in pieces ; and the people 
Kindled a fire that shall burn them up. 
And let it burn ! This is my time to fix 
And arm myself against the worst. Th' ascent 
To thrones is slippery ; the top, shaking ; 
The fall, a precipice ! Men go not down 
By the same stairs they climb'd ! Yet what of that % 
This must defend me ! — [Hands Us sw(yrd.'\ — Caesar 

often sheath'd it. 
But never laid it by ! 

Enter Anna. 

But see ! — the Empress ! 
'Twere a good humour now for me, that kill'd 
The husband, to make love unto the widow ! 
For once I'll venture. — [He kneels.] — Hail, renowned 
Empress ! 
Amia. What would this plague and mischief of our 
house 1 
What means he "? 

And. Duty, Eoyal madam, and leave 

To drop a tear into this ocean ! [Rises. 

Alas ! good Emperor ! Who can be happy. 
When careless fate shall spin a thread so fine 
* A handle. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 183 

Only to snap 't in two again 1 Blest youth • 

Had virtue, innocence, and all those graces 

That build a Prince, and make him more belov'd 

Than fear'd, done anything, th' 'adst been here still ! 

Or could that early majesty, or courage 

Beyond thy years, prevail'd, th' 'adst not died yet ! 

But see our misery, that nothing can 

Be happy long but Heav'n must envy it I 

He was too good to live ! 

Anna, Would thou 'adst been so, 

I had not lost him, then ! Damn'd, cursed man ! 
How durst thou vent these lies, when thou art he 
That didst contrive his murder, and his blood 
Yet reeks upon thee ? 

And. Wrong not my innocence ! 

By all the virtues of your sex, 'tis false ! 

Anna. Thou liest ! 

And. I do not ; 'twas a fall from's horse. 

By this it was ! [Kisses her hand. 

Anna. P'th ! I touch the hand [She spits at him. 
That is besprinkled with my husband's blood 1 
The day shall sooner set i' th' east ; the w^est 
Shall be sunrising, ere I admit the hand 
That took away my husband, kindred. Empire — 
Nay, all ; but, what's more dear than all, thy hate, 
Which, to my sorrow, is the common case 
Of all with me, but shall continue fresh 
And green, when thy ill-gotten bays shall wither, 
And thy perfidious conquests be forgot ! 

And. Call not my duty conquest. If you knew 
With how much trembling I return'd again. 
You would have pitied me, at least have judg'd 
More favourably. I must change my key. [Aside. 
But yet admit it conquest. He that did 
That can do more. If still eternal hate 
Lodgeth in mortal breasts, nor will it be 
Reclaim'd though overcome, let conquerors 
Keep what's their own, the conquered obey ! 

Anna. 'Twas thy ambition first began it all ! 

And. Say 't were ! 'Tis not the justice of the cause. 



184 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

But how it ends, is lookt upon. Success 
Was always sainted. 

Anna. Yes, i' th' devil's calendar 1 

And. Come, come, forget ! And since I've sheatk'd 
my sword, 
Lay by your rancour ! 

Anna. Would my eyes were basilisks,'^ 

That I might look thee dead ! 

And. They've done 't already ! 

And no less power than that that gave the wound 
Can make the cure ! 

Anna. Then die, perfidious traitor ! 

And. Yet ere I do 't, let me, like dying men, 
Make my confession ! 'Twas I commanded 
Your husband's death ; nor can I quit myself 
Of anything that you have charg'd me with ! 
Excuse 't I must and shall, or bring you in 
As accessory ! 

Anna. Me ! What means he, trow ? 

And. I love you, Eoyal madam ! and with that zeal, 
That to express it were to imagine 
'Twere comprehensible, and make it nothing ! 
Were there ten thousand mischiefs more, each mischief 
Clog'd with another million, I would through — 
Value no hazard, laugh at blood and ruin, 
Till I had plac'd me on that even ground 
Might challenge your love ! Now, madam, you have 

the cause ; 
Be merciful to me, or just to yourself! 

Anna. What call you justice, then ? 

And. Either absolve me, or condemn yourself 

Anna. Was I the cause ? 

And. Your beauty was. 

Anna. Would it had been blasted 

Beyond the power of art ! 

And. Be not so cruel ! 

Consider who 'tis loves you, and what he did 
Was for that love ! The Emperor is dead, 

* " Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead." 

--Shakespeare's Richard III. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 185 

And 'tis as easy to call back the day 

That's past, as him ! A living mouse is better 

Than a dead lion ; I am Emperor still. 

Anna. But how ? or by what means 1 

And. What matters that % 

It is enough I am. Here ! take that love 
AVhich all the world would court ! Nor think me old 
Although 't 'as snow'd upon my head ! Your beauty 
Can raise new spirits, and my power shall fix them ! 

Anna. Let me alone — I hate thee ! 

And. But I love you ! 

Accept it yet, and keep that power and greatness 
You ever had ! Nay, I will double it ! 
I'll make yourself, and only you, the channel 
To pass my favours through ! The Empire shall 
Be blest or blasted by your influence ; 
And the less world shall set its looks by yours ! 

Anna. Would it had ne'er seen thine ! 

And. Some angel help me ! [Draws his sword. 

Here ! — [Gives it her.] — And I tell thee once again, I 

kill'd 
Alexius — and to enjoy thee, too ! 
Revenge his death at least ! And since I cannot 
Live with thy love, let me die thy martyr ! 

Anna. I take thee at thy word. Repent, and die ! 

[She offers. 

And. Repent 1 — the phrase of ignorance ! That were 
To doubt the action in its cause — your beauty ! 
'Twas I ! Why doubt you ? Strike ! Strange that 

you'll neither 
Revenge nor yet forgive ! 

Anna. Away, dissembler ! 

[She throws the sword at him. 
Thou art not ripe for vengeance, nor shall 
My hand anticipate thy fate ! No ! Live ! 
To let thee see how much I hate thee ! — live, 
Only to fall more infamous ! [Exit Anna. 

And. What's here ? 

Love tricks 1 My life, she comes at t'other pluck ! 



186 andronicus comnenius. 

Scene iv. 

Enter Stephanus, solus. 

Ste. And must I still live this unmanly life 1— 
Still brook a rival ? No ! In Princes' favours 
There is no middle 'twixt the top and bottom 1 
Their minds are large but various, and cloy'd 
Sooner than others, easily o'erlooking 
Their first election ! Sure, the Emperor loves me ! 
I never wrong'd him in my thought. He does ; 
I'll ne'er dispute it further. But what is 't 
Unless I could engross him 1 There's Basilius 
Keeps even pace in's favour, and may in time 
Get the start o' me if I don't prevent him ! 
No more ! He falls ! 'Tis here as 'tis in prospects, — 
When others come on, we think ourselves go back ! 

Enter Philo, as going hastily over the stage. 

Whither so hasty, man '? 

Phil. I cannot stay ; 

I'll wait upon you presently again. 

[As he goes out he drops a letter. 
Stephanus takes it up. 

*SVg. Hownow! Morework^ It is the Emperor's hand! 
To Tripsicus ! 'S heart ! — a promoting rogue ! 
And can you stoop so low % Then I see anything 
Will serve your turn. This letter may beget 
Eight understanding 'twixt us. Well, I'll read it ! 

\He reads.'] — " Pray, mind what I hinted you last. 
Affairs run high at present, but I si i all weather them !" 

Ste. Good ! good ! good ! 
" 9, 41, and 85 meet at night. 200 will tell you 
where it is. Things are not yet ripe enough to own 
you publicly." 

Ste. Better and better ! 
"You know your work — either bring the account 
yourself, or send it by 90. I had rather the latter. 
— Your beloved friend, A." 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 187 

A ] — that's Andronicus ! I'm sure the hand 

Is all his own. Super-excellent ! 

T'faith ! i'faith ! and does the wind blow there 1 

Philo returns in haste. 

Phil. Dropt I no letter, sir 1 

Ste. You best know that 

Yourself. What letter ? or to whom directed 1 
Sure, Philo, you're in love ; you're grown forgetful ! 
You know you stopt not here ! Come, tell me true, 
'Twas from your mis', and you're afraid another 
May take the scent! Peuh! he'll but squeeze thy orange, 
And thou may'st have 't again. 

Phil. In troth, I'm serious ! 

And if it ben't within, am lost for ever ! [Exit Philo. 

Ste. My pocket, th' 'adst hit right ! Now for a trick 
To kill two birds with one stone ! — ^make me 
A property ! — an idle stale ! — I have 't ! 
To see how luckily things hit ! Andronicus, 
Finding the city troublesome, as resenting 
Alexius' murder, makes it his endeavour 
To fetch off Constantinus to his party ; 
Perhaps to destroy me, too. Not unlikely ; 
But I shall miss my aim or I cross-bite him ! 

'Tis thus : — I smok'd the business, and, judging it 
a fit opportunity to ruin Basilius, went privately to 
Constantinus and struck up a friendship with him ; 
and, as a first act of it, bade him have a care of 
Basilius, whose civil usage had no other respect than 
to betray him to the loss of his head, which,— to my 
knowledge, as I told him, — Andronicus had plotted, 
and would inevitably take eff'ect unless he could turn 
the mischief upon t'other by making his escape. 
Whereupon, by my advice, he has possess'd Basilius of 
a seeming repentance for his former obstinacy, and 
that he is both able and willing to recover it by the 
discovery of a new plot. The thing takes. Androni- 
cus has sent for him — I wonder he is not come yet ; 
but if he does not give them the go-by, I'll lose my 
head. If he does, the work is done — Basilius de- 



] 88 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

stroyed, and, consequently, Andronicus disarm'd of 
the city by tlie falling of the power into my hands. 

Now how I hug myself ! 
Who cannot make his port with a fore wind 
Must use a side wind. Craft, where strength doth fail. 
And piece the lion with the fox's tail ! [Exit 



Scene v. 

Enter Andronicus, solus. 

And. And am I Emperor, and do my foes 
Still live 1 or must I, that have dar'd so far, 
Falter at last, for fear the multitude 
May be displeas'd 1 Can wounded greatness sleep, 
Or joy itself, when it beholds a sword 
Hang o'er its head 1 No ! Let me be safe. 
Though the world tumble ! Slow and fearful counsels, 
Which narrow-hearted fools call caution. 
Ne'er made Rome what she was ! Who waits within 1 

Enter Philo. 

AVhat ! has Maria's doctor done his work 1 

Fhil As pat as wish — she's dead ! and so's her hus- 
band. 

A7id. Here ! See these warrants executed ! For 
Constantinus, 
Let him alone till you hear further from me ! 

Phil. 'Tisdone! 

Aoid. I like a man goes merrily on ! 

Are they not right 1 [Philo peruses them. 

Phil. Yes, yes ! But if they were not, 

I'd make them serve. — [Aside.'] — Send me good luck ! 

I've dabbled 
So long in blood, that ten to one he serves me 
As our musicians when the music's done^ 
Hang up the instrument ! But I am in, 
And must wade through or sink ! [Exit Philo. 

And. So much for them — now for an after-game ! 



ANDRONICUS COININENIUS. 189 

But that lies nearer home. Here are a brace 

Of rogues, my lords in mischief ! That's Basilius 

And Stephanus, whom I kept hitherto 

For a reserve, and thought t' 'ave sacrificed them 

Unto a popular fury. But they're grown 

Too cunning, and have stol'n the people from me. 

Had they no other crime, this were enough. 

Who puts off's hat unto the people, forfeits 

His head to's Prince ! Nor will 't be difficult 

To compass theirs. They're jealous one of t'other. 

I must foment it, and, by setting poison 

To work 'gainst poison, rid myself of both ! 

I've instruments enough to fill their room 

Less cunning and more tractable. 

Enter Basilius and Stephanus. 

My friends. 
Most welcome ! What's the news 1 

Bas. Little but that 

The city's hush'd again. 

And. I thank your care ! 

What would the buzzards have % 

Bas. They know not what ! 

One's for a single person, another for two, 
A third for neither, a fourth for liberty. 
Oh ! what a gallant thing this Sparta vas ! 
But what that was, the devil a bit they know ! 
'Tis hardly credible : There's not a tap-house 
But 's a new polity — a small free state ! 
And there sit in judgment, and give sentence 
Ere they agxee the case. 

And. What would y' advise me 1 

Ste. Let them alone ! When the dull beast is weaiy 
'Twill fall asleep ! If not, grant them some toy 
You meant t' 'ave done yourself 'Tis the same thing 
As you had given them all — they'll be as little 
Contented if you had. They are not capable 
Of ha\dng all or nothing granted them. 
They neither brook a downright slavery, 
Nor may be trusted mth full liberty. 



190 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

And for the rest, — carry an even hand, 

You need not fear them. Wind your strings too high, 

They crack ; and let them down too low, they jar ! 

And. My worthy friends, — But is 't not possible 
To find the hands that set the wheel agoing ? 
I'm sure the multitude are sots, and carry 
Their brains in other men's heads, 

Ste. I've heard of some ; 

But pitiful fellows ! 

And. As though a rogue 

Might not bring in the plague ! Have they no money 'I 

Ste. I hope in a short time to give you a catalogue. 

And. 'Tis but ill playing with these tools. I thank 
you! 
And now I'll tell you news ! Could you believe 
That Constantinus should have tack'd about ? 

Ste. Nor shall I easily. The sky may fall, 
But yet I wish my head ne'er ache till 't do ! 

And. — you are too severe ! What says Basilius % 

Bas. Troth, I believe he will ! And had you heard 
Half our discourse, you must have judg'd the same : 
I never met with larger promises. 

And. I bade you bring him to me. Have you 
done 't 1 

Bas. I have ; and left him with a guard without. 

And. Go, fetch him in ! [Exit Basilius. 

Ste. And he shall fool you both ! [All this aside. 
Things jump as right as wish, and his escape 
Must hit. Pray Heaven, he don't mistake the door I 

Basilius returns tvith Constaninus and a Guard. 
Stephanus points to the door. 

And. How now, my lord ! Basilius has told me 
You'd somewhat to offer me. 

Const. I heard you were 

Willing to speak with me. 

And. How !— What's all this t 

Bas. Why, he told me 

Const. Nay, if you can't agree, 

I had as good be gone ! 



ANDROxNICUS COMNENIUS. 191 

[CONSTANTINUS mokes his escape by a dom\ and claps 
it after him. Stephanus aiid Basilius imrsue. 
Excursions of Guards. After some time, they force 
the door. 

Ste. Hold ! Stop the traitor ! 

And. Where leads this door ? 

1 Gua. Unto the water, sir. 
And. Nay, then, he's gone ! Order a gallej^ straight 

To give him chase ! Disperse ! Stop ev'ry passage ! 
A thousand crowns to him that brings his head ! 
There must be more in this than barely chance — 
'Twas a bold rogue that did it. 

Stephanus returns in a fury, icith his sword drawn. 

Ste. Nothing but locks 

And bolts 1 Sir, you're betray'd ! 

Enter Guard. 

And. Did you recover hhn I 

2 Gua. No ; he got boat ere we could reach the stairs. 
And. But whither went he "? 

2 Gua. 'Twas so thick a fog, 

And the boat so well mann'd, we quickly lost her. 
■ And. Death and the furies ! Am I then betray'd, 
And myself made the instrument % Where's Basilius 1 

2 Gua. We left him fitting out a galley. 

And. Hence ! 

Ste. Let me beseech your majesty ; be not troubled ! 
Now you shall see I love you ! If it be 
A thing of chance, you'll hear no further of 't. 
If other^vise, and he designs a rising. 
The city is the scene. I'll get before him, 
And raise the Guards ! And, if your majesty 
Thought it convenient, could seize the heads 
Of the left mutiny. But then — Basilius 

And. And what of him ? 

Ste. May chance to take it ill- 

There' s some of them are his relations. 

And. But are you sure to seize them ^ 

Ste. Do I live ] 



192 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

And. And you dare act as high as I dare trust you 1 

Ste. Dare, sir ! How think you 1 Dare I eat or drink 
For fear of choking 1 

And, I am satisfied ! 

Seize him and all ! 'Tis not our ancient friend, 
But our new enemy. 

Ste. It may be dangerous ; 

He is so popular. 

And. Then knock out's brains ! 

Such as would own his cause when living will 
Shift for themselves when once they see him dead. 

Ste. Please you to leave 't to me. 'Tis time 'twere 
done. 

And. Do what thou wilt — [Exit Stephanus] — and 
good luck follow thee ! 
Tell me of middle ways ! — an even hand ! 
Who ever got a crown by evil arts 
And manag'd it by good 1 That waking men 
Should dream themselves away ! Empire's preserv'd 
By the same way 'twas got. I stand too near 
A precipice to think of stopping now. 
No ! I must on ! What I've already done 
Is but the antimask to what I'll do. 
When safety comes in question, there's no difference 
'Twixt just or unjust, pitiful or cruel ! 
I'll break what will not bow — possess their hearts, 
Or force them open ! They that will not love 
Shall at least fear my power. 'Tis decreed ! 
And this great beast must either bow or bleed. [Exit. 



Act v. — Scene i. 

Enter Stephanus and Constantinus. 

Ste. Thus far, my lord, you're safe. But one pluck 
more, 
And you may write secure ! 

Const. Nay ; that I am 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 193 

Is yours, and singly yours. But passing what 
I cannot name too oft, let us consider 
What must be done. 'Twere better die at once 
Than be thus saw'd in pieces ! Our wounds are 
So far from being heal'd, they're hardly closed : 
Nay, like sick men, we've rather lighted on 
A new physician than a remedy. 

Ste. 'Tis but too true, my lord ! but 'tis too late 
To spend ourselves in womanish complaints — 
'Tis more than time 'twere done. 

Cmist But who shall do 't 1 

You know our friends are gone, or, what's as bad. 
By having lost their eyes, unserviceable ! 

Ste. 'Tis our advantage ; what we want in numbers 
Will be supplied in secrecy. Great designs, 
Like wounds, if they take air, corrupt. Besides, 
These frequent slaughters make our game, thus have 
Lost their authority, and rend'red him 
As cheap, as funerals a physician ! 
And what is greater than all these, the city 
Has ne'er a head ! 

Const. No ! Where's Basilius 1 

Ste. He's gone the way of those that oblige tyrants 
Beyond requital — he's strangled ! 
And now's our time to strike ! Your lordship has 
Good interest among the citizens, 
And they're just ripe for mischief. I have agents 
Now raising them to your hand, and shall be ready 
To back you with the Guards. Make'but a stand, 
And all's our own ! Isaacus Angelus 
Is of the blood, and we'll proclaim him Emperor ! 

Const. But he's given up to privacy. Andronicus 
Well knew 't, that suffered him to live so long ! 

Ste. I thought as much myself ere I went to him. 
But now, he is so sensible of 's danger, 
He catches at anything. This is our nick ; * 
For — I'm to tell you news — the Empress 
Has, notwithstanding all her brave resolves, 
Giv'n up t' Andronicus ! Poor lady ! 
* Critical moment. 
N 



194 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

It will concern us to be quick. This action 

Will rivet all unless we crush him now 

Now, while 'tis hot ! Come, my lord ! [Exeunt 



Scene II. 

Enter Andronicus, solus. 

And. Mischief of greatness ! that has all to fear, 
Yet knows not whom to trust. What desperate rocks 
Must it run foul of, when to trust all or none 
Is equally an error, and both fatal ! 
How am I fool'd ! and by some bosom slave ! 
But let it pass ; 'tis time must work it out. 
I have enough at present to soothe the people. 
Some crafty devil has buzz'd them in the head 
With prophecies, the fond belief of fools. 
But now and then the talk of wiser men ! 
Nothing but murmurs, news, seditious libels — 
The common weapons of unmanly spirits — 
It must not be dallied with ! These hollow blasts 
Bode no fair weather ; these imperfect motions 
Show somewhat's out of frame ! 

Enter Stephanus. 

Ste. Safety to Caesar ! 

The omen, to his enemies ! 

And. What is 't 

Can need that preface ? Speak ! 

Ste. A fearful comet 

Sweeps the air ! 

And. Heav'n has done us right at last, 

And grac'd our triumphs with its bonfires too ! 
If otherwise, and there be danger in % 
'T 'as told its errand, and betray'd its end ! 
These toys astonish more than signify. 

Ste. Nor is this all. Men talk as if an earthquake 
Had overthrown some houses ! 

And. 'T 'as yet left 

The palace standing ! Have you more 1 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 195 

Ste. The statue 

Of your St. Paul drops tears ! 

And. Mere change of weather ! 

Unless, perhaps, the general acclamations 
May Ve pierc'd its marble with a feeling sense 
Of what we are. Tears are th' effect of joy 
As well as mourning ! But I thought my Stephanus 
Had had more wit than to regard these fooleries ; 
They're natural, and ignorance of cause 
Must make them miracles. He that regards 
The crowLQg of a hen, a fox with young. 
Hare, cat, or weasel crossing his way, a snake 
Dropt from the tile, a black dog at his door, 
A left hand magpie, or a right hand thunder, 
Must never sleep ! The very peasant, now. 
Can half look through them ! — and shall Empire fear 
them ? 

Ste. Now, how it joys my soul to see your majesty 
Thus yourself still ; and to confirm you so. 
Let me once say, be safe ! I've charm'd the city 
Into obedience ; nor is there left 
A head or hand that dare appear against you. 
But though the flame be quench'd, there may, perhaps, 
Some brands He smoking ! To prevent the worst, 
'Twere fit the guards kept there — besides, 'tis good 
To show the dog his whip. 

And. My other self ! 

\He embraces him. 
Keep up thy wonted courage, and make the Empire 
Confess thou sav'dst it ! If you can look so low, 
You'll find a nest of slaves, that, like ill spirits, 
Foretell the storm themselves intend to move. 
Let not a mother's son escape ! These villains 
Are grown State mountebanks ; nothing can pass 
But they must raise some observation 
Or use upon 't. And the dull beast conceives, 
According to the colour of those rods 
They cast before them ! * Stephanus conceives me ? 

* See Shakespeare's Merclmnt of Venice, Act i. Scene iii., voce 
Shylock. 



196 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Ste. I do ! and shall not sleep 'till I have giv'n you 
Some fair account. [Exit Stephanus. 

And. Farewell, my worthy friend ! 

So ! he stands single now — he'll fall the easier. 
He's grown too stubborn for me : I daren't displease 

him, 
For fear he take a pet and set up another ; 
Perhaps himself But I shall check him there : 
He's only safe that has nought left to fear. [Exit 



Scene hi. 
Enter a RaUle of Citizens. 

1 Cit. Come, neighbour, come ; it is not to be endur'd ! 

2 Cit. No, troth is it not ! 'Twould make a man a 
whore to consider it seriously. 

7 Cit. I told you this before — you might have 
hearken'd to a fool ! 

3 Cit. Ay, neighbour, would you had ! 

5 Cit. Hang would ! let's be doing ! 

6 Cit. Ay, but what, neighbour 1 what 1 

4 Cit. Anything — anything ! I am for anything ! 
Omnes. Liberty — liberty — -liberty ! [A hollow. 

1 Cit. Why should this Andronicus lord it over us 
any longer ] 

2 Cit. He is a very tyrant, that's certain ! 

5 Cit. Troth, all I got by his government is, that 
where I had a little money before, now I have none 
at all ! 

6 Cit. Nor I neither ! The devil might have danc'd 
in my pocket this twelvemonth, and not broke his 
shins against one single cross ! Call you me this, 
assisting 1 

5 Cit. It seems, neighbour, it is not altogether so 
plain as you made it. 

1 Cit. What say you, gentlemen 1 There's Isaacus 
Angelus, and, as I have heard say, has as good a title 
to the crown as another man ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 197 

2 at. Constantinus appointed us to have met Mm 
here. 0' my word, they say he is a pretty gentleman ! 

4 at I wonder they should stay so long ! 

6 at. Tell me of none of your pretty gentlemen 1 
I am for liberty ! 

Omnes. Liberty — Hberty — liberty ! [A hoUow. 

1 at. But hark you, neighbours; we must have 
some government ! 

2 at. Time enough to think of that hereafter ; let's 
destroy this first ! 

3 at. What think you of aristotocracy 1 

4 at. No — no — no ! Oligasky for my money ! 

5 at. By your favour, neighbour, I should think 
demococracy 1 

6 at. And, with your favour too, why not anarchy? 

2 at. Anything — anything but what we are ! 
Omnes. Liberty — liberty — liberty ! [A hollow. 

Enter Philo. 

Phil. Save you, gentlemen ! What's the business ? 
'Tis not midsummer moon, I hope ? 

3 at. Suppose it be — what then % 

Phil. Nothing, good gentlemen ; but if it be, I hope 
it will not last all the year ! 

2 at. Then we shall have another in 's room ; but 
what's that to you 1 

Phil. Pray, gentlemen, you need not be so stout ! I 
could tell you news deserv'd a better face. 

Omnes. What's that 1 — what's that % 

Phil. The Emperor has thought upon a device, that 
no freeman of Constantinople shall ever want money 
unless it be his own fault. 

5 at. That would do well ! 

6 at. Yes ! 0' my conscience, neighbour, would it ! 
Omnes. But how — but how 1 

Phil. Do but acquiesce a while, and you'll quickly 
see ; whereas, if you disturb him in 't, you spoil all, 
and perhaps may repent it when 'tis too late ! 

2 Oit. Acquiesce, that's the word — huh ! 

5 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ! — Acquiesce ! 



198 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

3 CH. Troth, he speaks reason ! 

4 Git Marry, does he ! 

5 at. Our city orator's but an ass to him ! 
Phil. What say you, then, gentlemen 1 

2 at For my part, now, I'll live and die with him ! 

3 at. And so will I ; we may do worse ! 

Phil. Yes ; I dare trust them for the first ! — [Aside.] 
— ^But what's the matter 1 Has so good an Emperor 
hut two friends among you all 1 Throw up your caps, 
and away with 't ! 

Omnes. One and all ! one and all ! long live An- 
dronicus ! 

Phil. He is beholden to you, and I'll let him know 
as much ! Farewell 1 good gentlemen. 'Twas a fair 
'scape ! [Aside. Exit Philo. 

Omnes. Farewell ! farewell ! Long live Andronicus ! 

[Hollow. 

1 at. Come, neighbours, come ! We had as good 
be quiet. There will be faults while there are men ! 

3 at. Ay — ay — let's home — let's home ! 'Tis good 
sleeping in a whole skin ! [As they are going off. 

Enter IsAACUS and Constantinus. 

Const. Now, gentlemen, I see you're men o' your 
words I 
Tis but an easy risk, and all 's our own ! 
Can you remember your old Emperor, 
Or his late murder'd son, and not acknowledge 
The heir, the undoubted heir 1 

1 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ! 
'Twas this we came about. 

2 at. Where's that rogue, Philo] Knock out 's 
brains ! 

Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! "WTiere is he — ^where is he 1 

3 at. We cannot for shame now but proclaim him 
Emperor ! 

6 at. Oh, by any means ! 

Omnes. Long live Isaacus, Emperor of Greece ! 
Isa. It was so far, my friends and countrymen, 
From my desires t'ave liv'd to see this day, 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 199 

'Twas never in my thoughts : My privacy 

Was all the Empire I or "vvisht or dreamt. 

But since your joint unanimous consent 

Has firm'd that title, which my birthright gave me, 

I cannot but acknowledge it ! 

3 at. What's that he says ? Long live Isaacus ! 
Omnes. Long live the Emperor ! 

4 at Peace ! hear him speak ! 
Isa. 'Tis not my business here to rip old sores, 

Or to keep ope those wounds which, let alone, 
AVould close themselves. Yet, since the readiest way 
To what we should be, is to know what we are. 
Let me once ask you, what d' you call this place ? — 
Greece, or her ruins ^ You had once an Emperor, 
A good one, too — I mean Alexius ! 
I will not say who murder' d him ! He had 
A sister ; I do not say she was poison'd ! 
You had good laws ; Andronicus made more — 
I would he had kept either ! I forbear ! 
Conto, Mamalus, Csesar, Basilius, 
Lapardas, Ducas, and a thousand more ; 
Some murder'd, others their eyes bor'd out ! My way 
Is not to speak against such as are absent. 
' Omnes. Yes — yes — yes — pray on ! Long live 
Isaacus ! 

6 at. Peace ! hear him speak ! 

Isa. Which of you all durst shake his head, and not 
Believe it loose and might fall off 1 '^^^lat though 
You 'scap'd when others fell ? — you were but kept 
To close his stomach and be last eat up. 

Yet let me give Andronicus his due : 
He brought the city once again within 
Her walls, whose suburbs, like the spleen, had swoU'n, 
To the consumption of the rest o' th' body ! 
I would he 'd left inhabitants enough 
To people that little remain'd ! He built a chapel — 
I would the devil had not set up the cross ! 
An aqueduct — I would the kennels had run 
No other colour ! One or two good actions 
To blanch and varnish o'er a deal of ill 



200 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

Is but the music to a tragedy. 
But I forget myself : I never lov'd 
To rake in dunghills, I only wish their author 
Had his desert ! Not that I bid you lay 
Violent hands upon him; Justice will do 
Enough but give her leave ! And so I shall not 
Detain you longer ; only let me beg you, 
If you meet Manuel, to preserve him safe. 
His only crime is, that Andronicus gat him ! 

7 at Ay, here's one spoke like an Emperor ! 

Omnes. Long live Isaacus ! 

3 at. Come, we lose time ! Andronicus may chance 
to give us the slip ! 

5 at. But if we take him, we'll give it him ! 

Omnes. Follow — follow — follow ! — whoop ! [Exeunt. 



Scene iv. 
Enter Andronicus and Stephanus. 

And. But did he land again 1 

Ste. I'm certain oft. 

I miss'd him narrowly ; perhaps he may 
Have taken sanctuary. 

And. What ? — Harbour traitors ! 

Demand him straight ! if they refuse a search, 
Force all the doors ! — [Shout within.] — What means 

that hollow 1 
Some devil's abroad ! Prithee go see what 'tis ! 

[Exit Stephanus. 
Nothing but mischief still 1 No day-shine clear 
Without a cloud 1 111 follows ill, like waves, 
One is no sooner past but t'other rolls. 
Within there ! 

Enter Philo. 

Call me a lutenist, and let him sing 
The song my Music sang me last ! Make haste ! 

[Exit Philo. 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 201 

My head's disquieted ; an old wizard's saw 

Swims in my brains ! 'Twas told me once I should 

Live to be Emperor, and that I. S. 

Should be my successor ! No Delphian devil 

Was ever more obscure ! — I. S. — Isaurus. 

But I've an eye on him. Whoe'er he be, 

The devil was right ; if not, 'twas our mistake. 

But say — I. S. — Whom heaven intends to ruin 

It first infatuates 1 There's Isaacus, 

Whom hitherto I've rather scorn'd than fear'd, 

Appears like something now ! He must not live ! 

In vain we fell a tree if yet we leave 

Quick roots behind. But what's the matter ? 

What makes the day post backward to the east? 

Whence this unwonted night — these stars at noon % 

Out with that dunghill stuff ! See how it waves 

And darts at me ; but I'll fetch it down ! 

Where be the sons of Titan 1 Let them come ; 
I'll be their captain ! With this arm I'll pluck 
Eocks from their standing, trees with roots and all, 
Whole mountains with their Centaurs, and erect 
A scaling ladder made of heaped hills, 
Whose top shall touch the clouds ! The world shall 

see 
Ossa once more on Pelion ; a third 
Shall be Olympus, whose advanced chin 
Shall knock the Heav'ns — if not, I'll throw it in ! 

\He staggers, and falls into a chair. 

Enter a Lute. 
A Song. 

Some have called life a stage play, that includes 
Nothing but scenes and interludes j 

Others a month of April, where two hours 
Scarce pass without as many showers ; 

Others, again, a miscellane of years. 

Or chequer-work of hopes and fears. 

But I'm confirm'd they were ordain'd by fate, 

As hieroglyphics of a Prince's state. 



202 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

One, while his genius is so kind, he'd swear 

He's in an empyrean sphere ; 
So curst again by fits, the frozen zone 

Is habitabler ten to one ! 
Strange kind of life ! to have one's hopes be brought 

To somewhat, and straight dash'd to nought. 
When rais'd upon the pinnacle, 'tis all 
To think, not whither, but from whence, we fall. 

Since, then, our dappled fate is such, who can 
Call himself blest and yet be man 1 

Ev'n crowns their crosses have ; nor Caesar shall 
Write happy till his funeral. 

More are our clouds than suns ; our care and pain 
Weigh down our bliss ! Who's happy, then ? 

He, and he only, whom the womb doth smother. 

And sends him packing from one grave to t'other. 

[Exit. 

Ha ! what was that 1 Methought I heard a voice 
And music ! How 't 'as fix'd me ! Plato, sure, 
Was in the right — -our souls are harmony. 
I am myself again ! What should I fear 1 
Who flies to shun his fate runs headlong on 't. 
Heaven helps the valiant, and ne'er descended 
To save that coward durst not save himself 
Since, then, the Empire knows not when 'tis well, 
I'll make it sensible what power can do ; 
I'm but defendant, they provoke me to 't ! 
Nor can the world my blackest action blame — 
Necessity has neither sin nor shame ; 
Mischief is never safe, but heap on heap 
One must back t'other ! They that stumble leap ! 

[Exit. 



andronicus comnenius. 203 

Scene v. 
Enter Citizens aiid RabUe. 

Omnes. Hollow! 

1 at. Where is this traitor that murder'd the 
Emperor 1 

2 at. Would I could light on him ! — I'd have a leg 
or an arm of him ! He hang'd my brother ! 

3 at. If every one he has wrong'd have but a little, 
I am sure a joint will not fall to your share. 

4 at. Come, come ! there will be enough for us 
all ! Would we had him, though I were bound to 
give you mine. 

5 at. What had we best do, neighbours 1 

3 at. Smoke the fox out of his hole ! 

2 at. Set fire on the palace ! 

4 at. By no means, gentlemen ; 'twill destroy a 
deal of good pillage — That has done no hurt. 

6 at. No — no — no ! destroy all ! You'll ne'er be 
rid of the wolves till you cut down the woods ! 

1 at. We had better sell them, and share the 
money ! 

6 at. 'Twill be too long a-doing, and others may 

Enter Philo. 

See, neighbour, see who comes here ] 
Even the very rogue that first betrayed us ! 
Down with him ! 
Stand ! 

Knock him down first ! 
Phil. Good gentlemen ! But hear me 

3 at. No — no — no ! Hear him 1 — That were a 
trick, indeed ! . [They hiock him down. 

2 at. So, farewell him ! I have a boy at home will 
cry for him, I'm sure of 't ! 

5 at. Upon my conscience, neighbour, but my wife 
will do the same. 



get m. 


1 at. 


2 at. 


3 at. 


4 at. 


5 at. 



204 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

6 at Hang him ! — hang him ! We lose time ! 
Let's about our work ! [Hollow. Exeunt. 



Scene vi. 

Enter Andronicus with his sword drawn, 
and a Servant. 

And. Ha ! — Philo dead ! These devils are every- 
where. 
Thou shalt not fall alone ! What was you saying % 

Ser. Another rout has seiz'd St. Sophy's temple ! 

And. Who heads them ? 

Ser. Constantinus ! who has taken 

Isaacus Angelus, and proclaim'd him Emperor ! 
And to them Stephanus, with all his Guards, 
Is since revolted ! 

And. Then farewell my hopes ! 

But I am still Andronicus ! Leave me 1 

[Exit Servant. 
And is your anger such, ye powers ? And can 
What's least above stoop to contest with man 1 
Did ye of brittle clay his fabric rear 
Only to dash 't in pieces ? Bade ye him bear 
His Maker's image in his brow to show 
Ye reign'd above, he a small Jove below ? 
Only to show him happiness, and yet 
Straight snatch it from him, or tumble him from it ? 
Had I submitted to a general fate. 
It had been nothing ! Had I seen my State 
And Empire sunk before me, I had gone 
Contentedly ! But to fall alone — 
Thus tamely lost ! What boots it to complain ? 
Give me one battle ! Heav'n be heav'n again ! 
One battle, and let me perish ! 

Enter three or four of the Babble. 

1 at Here he is ! Follow — follow — follow ! 
And. Villains ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 205 

2 at Stand ! [He kills two or three, the rest run. 

And. Lie thou ! 

By another door enter Servant. 

Ser. I'm sorry I came so late. Please you, great sir, 
Retire a while, until the storm be past ! 
Your name's too great in arms to have it call'd 
A cowardly flight. Then fall not out of season ; 
Reserve yourself for better times. I have 
A galley waits your majesty ! 

And. Now Heav'n reward thy honesty ! Lead on ! 
I know the worst ! 
Foolish despair is but occasion lost. \Ex&ant. 



Scene vii. 
Enter Constantinus, Isaacus, and Citizens. 

Const. Not find him yet ? I warrant you we know 
him ! 
Stop all the passages, and desire Stephanus 
To draw down with his guards ! 
■ 6 at. All but that last 

Is done already. I'll about it straight ! \Exit 

Const. How ? — Philo slain ! He never did his master 
A truer service. 

7 at. And my good neighbours, Ambrose and 
Gregory. Alack, alas ! Nothing certain in this life ; 
to-day a man, to-morrow a cuckold, the next day dead ! 

3 at. Come, come ! let's carry them off ! But for 
that rogue, let him ev'n lie; he was a pestilent villain ! 

4 at. Are you sure he is dead? Does not the 
rogue counterfeit ? 

5 at. 'Twill do no hurt to see. 

3 at. For the more certainty, 'tis good to be sure. 

[Stals him again. 

5 at. Well done, neighbour ! You're in my mind. 
I scarcely believe a man dead as long as his head 's 
upon his shoulders. [Exeunt. 



206 andronicus comnenius. 

Scene viii. 

Enter Manuel, solus. 

Man. 'Twould be some comfort yet I could but 
hear 
My father 'scap'd their hands — I'm half afraid 
He scorn'd to step aside. Ha ! — what's here ? 
Alas, poor Philo ! dead ! Now I perceive 
Thou hadst some honesty — thou lov'dst thy master : 
'Twas more than I expected. What's this world 
And all its greatness 1 It has rais'd up some, 
But ruin'd more ; and even those whom 't has 
Most rais'd, 't 'as ruin'd most ! What's all this toil 
And blind pursuit, but like our children's following 
A butterfly \ Sometimes they cannot reach it ; 
Sometimes o'errun it ; sometimes think they have 't. 
But it slips through their fingers ; and at last, 
When, after all their offers, turns, and falls. 
They've taken it, what is 't ? Alas, poor fools ! 
Nothing but painted wings. 'Tis not my late 
Experience taught me this — I ever found it ! 
Who could imagine to have seen my father. 
So late the people's darling, now their hate ? 
But yesterday an Empire at his back ; 
Now scarce a hole to put his head ! 'Twas Heav'n, 
And I submit ! But yet it lessens not 
Their crime that were the cause. There's Stephanus ! 
False Stephanus, a traitor to both masters ! 
Were he my enemy, 't hadn't troubled me — 
Nay, I'd forgiv'n him. But my friend, 'tis hard ! 

Enter Stephanus. 

See ! here he comes ! Now Heaven forgive me ! 
I had a father till his treacherous faith 
Bereav'd me of him. Father ! methinks the word 
Prompts me to something. 

Ste. My good lord, be safe ! 

Safe as your virtue merits ! 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 207 

Man. What hast thou 

To do with virtue ? I ne'er suspected her 
Until I found her in thy mouth. There ! 

[He strikes o/Stephanus' hat 

Ste. Ha ! Has your folly made you desperate 1 
Now would thy father and his daring soul 
Perch'd on thy point ! [They draw. 

Man. The justice of my cause 

May be enough to do thy work : My sword 
In a child's hand, inform'd by that, with ease 
Would reach thy treacherous heart! Words trifle 

time- 
Defend yourself ! [They fight. 

And after some small time enter Constantinus. 

Con^t. Hold ! Stephanus, hold ! Nay, good 

my lord, 
Let me entreat you ! [Stephanus falls. 

Ste. How am I lost in sight of land, and all 

My tow'ring hopes sunk with me ! Heav'n is just ; 
I would, but cannot ! [Dies. 

Man. So may all treachery succeed ! And if 

T'ave been my own justiciar be a crime. 
Forgive me — I had no other way ; his treason 
Had lost its name, and in the world's ethics 
Had past for virtue else. 

Const. Alas, my lord, 

'Twas an unfortunate action ! But since 
'Tis done, preserve yourself Pray, good my lord. 
Withdraw a while, nor let your virtue fall 
A prey unto the rabble. 

Man. I always scorn'd them, 

And shall not now, by showing of my back. 
Make them believe I fear them ! 

Const. What's your courage 

Against their numbers 1 Good my lord, withdraw ! 
Venture not gold to dirt. Pray, give me leave ! 

[Calls a servant 
Come hither ! Attend my lord, and see him safe 
Within my doors ! I'll wait on you presently. 



208 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 



Enter another. 



Ser. My lord, Andronicus- 



Const. Well ! what of him 1 

Ser. Had put to sea, and was now well-nigh reach'd 
The other shore, when, of a sudden, the winds 
And seas, as conscious whom they wafted o'er, 
Check'd his full speed and beat him back again. 
Yet he put out a second and third time. 
But all in vain ! The face of Heav'n was sulKed, 
The winds broke loose and clubb'd into a storm, 
Till the poor galley, having lost her rudder, 
Her oars unserviceable, and her masts 
Spent by the board, came rolling on the back 
Of an impetuous wave, and drove on shore. 
Where he soon met a storm indeed ! The people, 
Having by this time utterly defac'd 
Whatever bore his name or memory. 
Fell foul of him, or rather he of them ! 
Had you but seen the hubbub ! — One twicks his beard. 
Another beats out an eye, a third a tooth, 
A fourth cuts off a hand ! No cruelty 
He e'er commanded but was there again 
Epitomiz'd on himself ; and when at last 
Their tired invention could inflict no longer. 
Laden with dirt and obloquies, and crown'd 
With garlic, they set him on a scabbed camel, 
And in that odd procession led him to 
The common gallows, where they hung up that little 
They'd left of him ! So fell Andronicus ! 

Const. May the same fate ever attend rebellion 
And usurpation ! And let the world 
Hence learn on what a ticklish point they stand 
Whose unjust actions and borrow'd greatness. 
How speciously soever colour'd o'er, 
Have no foundation but what's built upon 
The people's favour ! The uncertain people. 
Constant to nothing but inconstancy ; 
Prone to afi'ect, but without judgment still ; 
Hot-headed ; envious ; suspicious, 4 



ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 209 

Yet credulous ; frame whimsies to themselves, 
And after fear them ; now set up one, then t'other ; 
But deal with all as children with their dirt-pies — 
First raise, then pash * them out ! 

Enter Isaacus. 

Isa. My Lord, you hear the news of Andronicus ? 

Const. Yes ; and may treason never prosper better ! 

Isa. But I admire we hear nothing of Manuel. 

Const. He's safe ! and now an object of your mercy! 

Isa. For why, my Lord "? Is virtue grown a crime ? 

Const. Behold ! — [He shoivs him Stephanus.] — I'll 
let you know the rest within ; 
But must assure your Majesty at present, 
'Twas fairly done ! 

Isa. Shall my first letters, then. 

Be writ in blood ? Howe'er, — I pardon him ! 
It is enough to me he durst be virtuous, 
AVhen Caesar, and that Caesar his father, too. 
Was otherwise. Bid him from me safe ! 

Const. I thank your Majesty ! 

Isa. But now, my Lord, 

I mast desire you look into the city. 
The people, like the sea, keep rolling still. 
Although the "svinds that rais'd them first be laid ! 
If they continue longer, there'll be nothing 
Left them to spoil, and then perhaps they may 
Consider and repent ! 

Const. Ill straight about it ; 

They have been up too long ! 'Twere to be wish'd 
This beast, the people, either never knew 
Their strength, or always knew to use it right. 

Isa. You may go farther, and, as you see cause, 
Proclaim a general pardon ! The more I spare. 
The more are left me to adorn my trophy ! 
Promise them better days, and let them know 
That though we're not ia Plato's commonwealth, 

* " Witli my armed fist 
I'll pash him over the face." 

—Shakespeare. 




210 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 

To have whate'er's amiss at once remede, 

Yet the first stone is laid, and I despair not 

A hopeful superstructure ! Eest and time 

Will make your troubled waters clear again ; 

For what remains, a gentle hand will do' t. 

Harsh, cruel Empires, like acute diseases. 

Are rather sharp than lasting ! That must dure * 

When nations of their rulers feel secure ; 

So must that Prince who'd wisely govern here, 

Trust in his subjects' love, not claim their fear. 

[Exeunt Omnes. 

* Continue. 



THE END. 



THE PROJECTORS. 



i 



The Projectors: A Comedy. By John Wilson. — jEtatem 
hahet ipse de se loquatur. — Imprimatur, Roger L' Estrange, 
Jan. 13, 1664. Lond. Printed for John Playfere at the 
White Lyon, in the Upper Walk of the JVeio Exchange; and 
William Crook, at the Three Bibles, on Fleet-Bridge. 1665. 
Ato. 



I 



Although the editors of tlie Biographia Dramatka say that 
The Projectors "met with good success upon the stage," it 
has been questioned by Geneste whether the play was ever 
acted at all. "llf either the title page nor Langbaine," as he 
affirms, "give us reason to believe so;" adding, "the play itself 
seems badly calculated for representation;" while, at the same 
time, he acknowledges that "it is well written, but wants 
incident sadly. Suckdry, the miser, is an excellent character — 
a better character of that description is not to be found in any 
play: several of his speeches are translated from the Aulularia 
of Plautns. The scene in the third act between the women is 
founded on Aristophanes." — See Account of the English Stage, 
8vo, Bath, 1832, vol. x. Mr. Halliwell's Dictionary of Old 
English Plays — London, 1860, 8vo — confirms the statement of 
the Biographia Dramatica ; and Langbaine, although not speci- 
ally commenting on this particular comedy, says, in reference 
to the author generally : ' ' Whose muse has been applauded 
on the stage," — inferring that all his plays had been acted. 
The supplementary volume of Langbaine contains this remark : 
"This play met with no great success." 

The characters are well depicted, the dialogue is good" 
throughout, and the interest is strong enough to warrant the 
piece being acted, at least in the days when it was written. 
Since then, so many writers have extracted its best parts, and 
turned them to their own uses, that, its freshness being thus 
gone, if it were brought forward in these times an audience 
would not accept it as a novelty. The "Miser " has not only been 
adopted by Sir Walter Scott in his Old Mortality, and repeated 
in his Fortunes of Nigel ; but Mr. W. Harrison Ainsworth has 
again taken not only forcible possession of him, but has traded 
upon the incident in this piece, of the suitor for his daughter's 
hand disguising himself in mean habiliments, so as to make it 
appear that he was of a thrifty nature, and in accordance with 
the miser's own ideas. 

It is uncertain whether Moliere's L'Avare was known to our 
author prior to his writing this comedy, there being doubts as 
to the precise date on which LAvare itself was produced. In 
the memoirs of the life of Moliere prefixed to his works — Edit. 
Amst. et Leip. 1750 — it is said to have been represented "sur 
le theatre du Palais Royal, le 9 Septembre 1668;" but this is 
qualified by a foot-note of the editor, who says : "On ne S9ait 
pas precisement en quel tems L'Avare parut pour le premiere 
fois." The dates of the two pieces, however, in so far as has 
been stated, so approximate that it is difficult to determine 



214 THE PROJECTORS. 

whether Moliere or Wilson first brought the character of the 
"Miser" into comparatively modern notice; but the merit of 
this appears, if at all, to preponderate in favour of the English 
dramatist. It is clear that both of them took the idea from 
the Aulularia of Plautus, and both have frequently drawn upon 
that play not only for character, but for their language and 
incidents. Thomas Shadwell and Henry Fielding have in turn 
drawn from all these several sources for materials for their 
comedies, called, in both instances, The Miser. For the Aulu- 
laria of Plautus, the English reader is referred to the second 
volume of a translation "into familiar blank verse," by Bonell 
Thornton, Lond. 1769, 8vo. 

Sir Gudgeon Credulous, in Wilson's comedy, bears con- 
siderable resemblance to Fabian Fitzdottrel, in Ben Jonson's 
Devil is an Ass : 

"Enter Engine, a broker, to Fitzdottkel. 

Fitz. O, my fine Engine ! What's the affair? More cheats? 

Eng. No, sir ! The wit, the brain, the great projector 
I told you of, is newly come to town. 

Fitz. Where, Engine? 

Eng. I have brought him, he's without— 

Ere he pulled off his boots, sir ; but so follow'd 
For businesses ! 

Fitz. But what is a projector? 

I would conceive. 

Eng. Why, one, sir, that projects 

Ways to enrich men or to make them great. 
By suits, by marriages, by undertakings, 
According as he sees they humour it." 

Meercraft is the projector, and among the projects he submits to 
Fitzdottrel, although designed as a satire upon the projects and 
monopolies of the time, there are many, then deemed impro- 
bable, which have since been brought forward in sober earnest- 
ness and have met Avith success. 

At the end of the printed copy of the present comedy is 
the following note : — 

"Errata. — Before the three first Acts you'll find Sccen. 1, 
Wherein the printer. mistook his copy ; be pleased to blot 'em : 
each Act being but one Scoene, and the stage throughout the 
whole play kept full. — The rest, being at most but literalj^ 
leaves to your favour." 



THE PEESONS. 

Sir Gudgeon Credulous, A Projecting Knight, Stdtoi 

to Mrs. Godsgood. 
Jocose, A Courtier. 
Ferdinand, His Son. 
SucKDRY, An Usurer. \ 

Squeeze, An Exchange Broker. \-All in for Projects. 
GoTAiii, A Citizen. j 

Driver, Jocose' s Servant. 
Leanchops, Suckdrijs Servant. 
Servant. 

Mrs. Godsgood, A Widow. 
Mrs. Gotam, Wife to Gotam. 
Mrs. Squeeze, Wife to Squeeze. 
Nancy, Suckdrijs Daughter. 



The Scene : — 
LONDON. 



PROLOGUE. 

It is so hard to please, when things must be 

]\Iouldy -svith age, or gilt with novelty ; 

That, in effect, 'tis but a cross or pile '"* 

In all that's written, whether well or ill. 

Nor have we ventured on this liberty, 

That we suspect your judgements ; no, they're free, 

Free as that reason that inform'd them first. 

And, were those common clogs of interest 

Once shaken off, would be the same again. 

What shall I say 1 Shall I entreat ye then 1 

A poor inducement, if ye will not do it. 

Out of good nature let me bribe ye to it. 

Ay ! , now ye hearken ; but mistake me not, 

AYe give no money back, that were a plot 
Upon ourselves ; yet we have as good a shift. 
Ye that would learn to thrive, we'll teach ye thrift ; 
And ye that would get more ; why faith, for you. 
We have, the Lord knows what, new projects too ; 
And you — I do forget myself To run too far 
May chance to cloy ye ere you see your fare. 

* Head or tail. Chance. 



THE PROJECTORS. 



Act I. — Scene l 

Enter Suckdry, solus, as coming from a journey. 

Suck Now, send that all things be well at home. 
But, troth, I half doubt it, my mind so misgives me. 
It could not be for nothing, sure, that the rats ate a 
hole in my pocket last night, and a crow kept scraping 
and cawing at me this morning. Uh ! my fears are 
out. This rogue has given me the slip, and is run 
away with my cloak bag. 

Enter Lean chops, with a cloak bag under his arm. 

Oh, Leanchops ! Art thou come 1 I profess thou 
didst half fright me. This London is so villanous a 
wide place, I was afraid I had lost thee, and must 
have been at the charge of crying thee. Art thou 
come, rogue 1 

Lean. As you see, sir; but, it seems, must thank 
this for your care and my welcome. And yet I'll 
undertake it might have slept safe on a dunghill for 
anything that's in 't. 

Suck Away, sirrah ! I have often told you of your 
surly proud heart ; sirrah, sirrah ! he that scorns a 
little shall never be master of a great deal. No more, 
I say, but stand forth, and let's see whether we have 
lost anything by the journey. 

[He takes out a roll, and reads. 

"Lazarus Suckdry !" Ay, God wot, a poor man, — 
as poor as Lazarus. I must be contented. Here I 
am. " Zachary Leanchops !" 

Lean. Here, sir. 



218 THE PROJECTORS. 

Suck. 'Tis well ; let's on. "Item, one horse, three 
shoes and a half, two stirrups, one saddle, one bridle, 
one girth, one crupper, and half a saddle-cloth !" 

Lean. All safe and forthcoming. 

Suck Very well. Observe — " One doublet with a 
new pair of foreskirts, one pair of breeches with a 
blue codpiece point, one pair of stockings." 

Lean. Without feet, sir. 

Suck No matter, no matter; 'tis not seen. "One 
pair of boots, one spur and spur-leather, one pair of 
gloves, one basket-hilt sword, one girdle hanger, one 
hat, one band, one coat, one jump,* and one switch." 

Lean. All in view. 

Sitck "Item, in the cloak bag, one Sessions* suit and 
cloak, one pair of blue stockings with orange-coloured 
garters and roses, three shoes, one comb with five 
teeth, one razor, half a washing ball, and a piece of a 
glass." Let me see, is it fast 1 All safe — ^ha 1 

Lean. As you left it. He deserves to be damn'd 
after it that would venture a hanging by stealing any 
of 't. [Aside. 

Suck Come, Leanchops, come ! this place is a little 
too pubHc. We'll look over the rest when we come 
home. 

Lean. Unless we chance to meet a ragman by the 
way, and then — rags to rags and rubbish to rubbish. 

[Aside. 

Suck Follow me, and have a care — here comes a 
couple ! 

Lnter Jocose and Driver. 

One does not know what they may do. Have a care, 
I say ; have a care ! 

Joe. Mr. Suckdry, your servant ! Welcome to town. 

Suck Thank you, good sir. Uh — uh ! he believes I 
have money in my cloak bag. Would I were well rid 
of him ! [Aside, walking. 

Joe. How do you ^ You do not look well. Let me 
give you a glass of wine ; 'twill comfort your heart. 
* A waistcoat. 



THE PROJECTORS. 219' 

Suck. Wine ! uh — uh ! I dare not ; my doctor tells 
me 'tis naught for me. I was right — he thinks I have 
got money, and would make me drunk, to steal my 
cloak bag. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 

Joe. Come ; it shall cost you nothing ! 

Such. Another time. Uh — ^uh ! This rogue Lean- 
chops has smelt out my gold at home, and told him 
where it lies buried. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 

Joe. What ails you, sir ? 

Such. Uh — uh ! sick ! A fit of the colic. I must home. 

Joe. But perhaps I have somewhat to say to you 
may deserve your stay. You have a daughter 1 

Su£h. A poor girl, God wot. What of her 1 

Joe. Call her not poor; she that is virtuous and 
handsome is rich enough. 

Such. Ah, sir ; but every man is not of your 
opinion. Alas ! poor child ! she wants a portion. 
There's something else requir'd besides virtue and 
handsomeness. This may bring admirers, that sweets 
hearts ; but 'tis money, money that gets the husband ! 

Joe. Let not that trouble you. I have a son, and 
though I say it, a handsome fellow ; one that, throw 
him where you will, shall live in the world. 

Such. But I can give nothing with my daughter. 
Poor wench ! she's a right philosopher ; she carries all 
she has about her. Good sir, do not abuse our poverty. 
Uh— uh ! 

Joe. Nor do I. Here's my hand ; I'm in earnest. 
What say you ? 

Suck I have told you already ; she has no money. 

Joe. And I have answered it. Shall we bring 'em 
together 1 

Such. For that as you please; you know her portion. 
Uh — uh ! I am sick, and cannot stay to talk it longer 
now. Farewell, sir ! This is a trap to catch my gold ; 
but he may be mistaken — old rats are not so easily 
taken as young cats think. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 

[Exeunt Suckdry and Leanchops. 

Joe. Farewell ! My son and I'll see you within a 
few days. 



220 THE PROJECTORS. 

Dri. But, with your leave, sir, I hope you are not 
in earnest. 

Joe. No ? but I am. And if I can but compass it, 
shall think it the best day's work I ever did in my 
life. This fellow, as poor as he seems, tell him but of 
a good mortgage, shall lend you ten thousand pounds 
upon 't at a day's warning, and yet would have the 
world believe him to be a poor man. And such, in 
troth, he is, since he dares not enjoy what he has ; 
for, o' my conscience, were he now sick in earnest, 
he would rather die, to save charges, than be at the 
expense of a glister. 

Dri. A man would wonder at it; yet such I've 
heard of 

Joe. But beyond him, I think, few. I have had this 
design in my head a long time, and made him many 
a mortgage, and kept touch with him at his day, 
merely to beget an opinion in him that I had great 
dealings in the world, when yet I have found enough 
to do to keep my head above water. 

Dri. Do not despair, sir ; but think how I may be 
ser^dceable to you, and see what I'll do. A mounte- 
bank's zany shall not be at more command, nor half 
so nimble, as I'll be industrious. 

Joe. I do believe thee, and perhaps may have 
occasion to try you sooner than you think of 't. 

Dri. Never too soon, nor nothing too much, to serve 
so good and bountiful a master ! 

Joe. Well, then, to be serious. I have a great while 
gone the plain downright honest way, but I find that 
begets nothing but laughter ; and therefore I'm ev'n 
resolv'd to follow the rest of the world — that is to say, 
feed the humours of fools ; and if they will set up 
windmills in their heads, contribute my assistance 
to cut out the sails. When saw you Sir Gudgeon 
Credulous ? 

Dri. Very lately ; but so big with contemplation, 
there was no coming near him. 'Tis true he cried, 
-'How does your master? Eemember me to him!" 
gave me the state nod, and — exit. 



THE PROJECTORS. 221 

Joe. 'Tis such a political hocus, such a frippery of 
shreds and parings, that I can liken him to nothing 
better than a tailor's cushion, — no two pieces of the 
same colour, — to-day this, to morrow that, the next a 
third thing ; but what that is, no man knows. 'Tis past 
all men's understanding, and his own too; for, to speak 
truth, he never had more than a man might well truss 
up in an egg-shell, and room to spare. In a word, I 
may say of him, as 'tis said of nature concerning 
monsters, he was produc'd, not intended. 

Dri. Nor have you mistook your character. I have 
known him a mathematician, a pol,* a star-gazer, a 
quack, a Chaldean, a schoolman, a philosopher, an ass, 
a broken grammarian, and most abominable poet, and 
yet sick of all — but the ass ; and now at last, if I mis- 
take him not, a most confident ignorant projector. 

Joe. And that he may thank me for. I saw he was 
past the remedy of a mortar, and if I should have 
pretended to a miracle, to have reduc'd him, 'twould 
have been hardly belie v'd; and therefore I ev'n let him 
alone, and, as I saw occasion, work'd him to my own 
purpose. Methinks you might be useful to me in 't. 

Dri, And will. I am your servant ; command it. 
• Joe. Here dwells hard by one Mistress Godsgood, a 
rich widow, to whom I have made some long pretences ; 
nor had they been, as I am told, altogether success- 
less, if this coxcomb's estate had not hung in my 
light. She believes him what he is, an ass, but yet a 
golden ass, and cries that's enough to cover his other 
faults. Now, could I flay him of that fine skin, I need 
not trouble myself to make him ridiculous, and con- 
sequently do mine own work, 

Dri. And truly he's in a fair way to 't. And now, 
give me leave to tell you, you could have thought of 
nothing wherein I could have serv'd you better. 

Joe. I know thou hast been bred a scholar, and thy 
invention not ill. But canst thou cant 1 

Dri. How think you, sir *? Suppose I should tell him 

* Query, a polemic? i.e. a disputant, a controversist, or, it may- 
be, a preacher. 



222 THE PROJECTORS. 

I had studied the Emporeuticks, Lemnicks, Camnicks, 
and Plegnicks ; could demonstrate the minimum quod 
sit of Homocrecious and Heterocrasious ; and, stripping 
Materia Prima to her smock, discover the most private 
recesses and occult qualities of Ignicadrillica, Metal- 
lorgonica, Euricatactica, and Hydropanta Pressoria? 
Do you believe, I say, he would be able to understand 
more of it than I do myself, which is just nothing 1 
If you call this canting, let me alone with him ! 

Joe. Excellent ! Then, to subdivide them into as 
undemonstrable, yet seemingly probable, projects. 
We shall make such sport ! 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Dri And yet good money, I warrant you, sir. But 
see, my young master ! yet, methinks, not so merry 
at heart as we are. 

Joe. Now, Nando ! what news with you? Thou art 
as spruce as if thou hadst been with thy young widow, 
yet look'st as heavy as she had tum'd thee to lead. 
How goes it 1 

Fer. Why, faith, sir, I just came from her. 

Joe. And what 1 How did she receive thee 1 

Fer. So, so — the city way ; but at last I had laugh'd 
her into a pretty good humour, till, as the devil would 
have it, in dropt her uncle, and quite damp'd all with 
a noise of jointures and I know not what — a disease, 
I think, I shall be last troubled with. To be short, 
she did in effect tell me she was handsome, and would 
never marry but to better her fortune. 

Joe. Let her go ! let her go ! If thou wilt not be 
wanting to thyself, I'll put thee upon a better, and 
one that shall never cheat thee by pretending to be 
richer than she is ; for, in a word, she is not worth 
one groat ! 

Fer. What do you mean, sir 1 

Joe. A good wife, and, for aught I ever heard, may 
make a virtuous wife. 

Fer. No ready money, sir 1 Methinks half one half 
t'other were somewhat like. 



THE PROJECTORS. 223^ 

Joe. Let not that trouble you. Her father is rich, 
very rich, and has no other child to leave his estate to, 
and shall rather put her off to an ordinary fortune 
with nothing, than give an hundred pounds to marry 
her to the best estate in London. 

Fer. And who may this be, good sir ? 

Joe. Old Suckdry's daughter. 

Fer. I could like it well ; but how is it to be done "? 

Joe. Not with that tossing feather, lewd periwig, 
lac'd band, flaunting linen, embroider'd belt, wide slops, 
shop of ribbons, and vile porte-canons ! * 

Fer. AVhy, sir, you have seen them all before ! 

Joe. Nor am I angry with thee for doing as other 
people do. No ; I had rather have thee comport thyself 
to every man's humour — with old men, severe j with 
young, jocund ; with the humoursome, morose ; with 
women, galliard ; with thy companions, pleasant ; and 
with a niggardly rascal, more sordid than himself — at 
least appear so. And so would I have thee treat this 
fellow. 

Fer. If that were all, I could easily follow your 
directions. 

Joe. And you may not repent it. Go ! be rul'd by 
me. Strip all this trumpery ; 'tis enough to fright him. 
Should he see thee now, he'd swear the feathers were 
more worth than the bird. Go, I say, and get me 
some little odd hat, but quite out of fashion ; a di- 
minutive band, no cuffs, hair shorter than your eye- 
brows, at most not beyond your ears ; close breeches, 
greasy gloves, Gresham shoes, leather shoe-ties ; and 
for your cloak, no matter if it be of another parish, 
— he'll like it the better. 

Fer. My acquaintance would laugh at me. 

Joe. Get thou the money, and laugh at them, boy ! 
Then, for your discourse, — get me together all the base, 
ill, sordid tricks of a covetous wretch, and deliver 
them as morals ; wonder at the ignorance of the age, 

* Or ' canions ; ' rolls at the bottom of the breeches imiQediately 
below the knee. They were sometimes indented like a screw ; the 
common ones were called straight canions. See Strutty ii. 148. 



224 THE PROJECTORS. 

that knows not those honest thrifty rules, or, if it do, 
its shame in not practising them. 

Fer. Well, sir, I see you are in earnest, and for 
once I'll try what I can do. But I doubt 

Joe. Do ; and ne'er doubt it. About it straight 
while 'tis hot, and leave the rest to me ! 

Fer. You have commanded, and I shall not dispute. 
But if I bring it to pass, I may well swear miracles 
are not ceas'd ! [Exit. 

Joe. Come, let's be gone ! Thou knowest the plague's 
in the city, and if I stay longer, 'tis odds but I may 
be infected. 

Enter Sir Gudgeon Credulous. 

Dri. I hope, sir, you do not fear Sir Gudgeon 
Credulous? 

Joe. no ! he's a good preservative against it. 

Dri. I told you he was as big as he could hold. 
Do you not observe, sir, how hard he wrings his brows, 
to the manifest hazard of disblocking his periwig? 
Will you not speak to him ? 

Joe. Presently. Let's view him a little ! 

Sir Gud. It must take without doubt, and the profit 
be infinite ; no man knows what. But for the manner 
of doing it : — this way ? no ; it may be certain, but 'tis 
too far about the bush. That way ? no ; for though 
it be the shorter cut, we may yet be too hasty in the 
experiment. T'other way? neither; the charge will too 
vast. Hang charge ! we shall quickly fetch 't up again. 
All I fear is, the thing will be so considerable, it may 
chance to be begg'd from us ; and against that there's 
no other fence but to swear 'tis worth nothing. That 
was well thought on. Then, after this, comes my widow ! 
I shall be but too rich ! — One Jupiter ! there could be 
no less than ten Jupiters lords of my nativity ! 

Joe. Sir Gudgeon Credulous ! save you ! I see there's 
hopes of the business, you mind it so well. Have you 
made any experiment ? 

Sir Gud. Yes ; but I do not find it altogether answer 
expectation. How^ever, 'tis but early days yet. 



THE PROJECTORS. 225 

Joe. Pray be very curious in it; and Driver, to whom 
I have committed the management of my interest, 
shall assist you. I must tell you he's no ordinary 
artist. 

Sir Gud. Better and better ! Then he has seen it ? 

Dri. Seen it, sir ! If I should tell your worship all 
I have seen, I should despair of the work ; 'twould so 
put you out of patience ! 

Sir Gud. Good Driver ! And how ? and when 1 

Dri. Did not I tell you; you would not have 
patience^ Good sir, let things do themselves — one 
minute's over haste is enough to put us a twelvemonth 
back ; for it fares here as with the philosopher's stone, 
the least error in the work and we must begin all anew. 

Sir Gud. Honest Mr. Driver, I will be rul'd ! 

Enter Gotam, a note-book under his arm. 

Got. 'Tis he ! I have his name here fast in my book 
in good black and white. Let me see — E, F, G, H, 
I, J, J — Jo, Jo, Jo — Jocose ; here 'tis — Jocose, page 
150. "Mr. Jocose, for himself and wife, £108, 7s. 9d. 
ob." A good round sum. Would I had it ! I could be 
content to bate him the single money ! 
' Joe. But hark you. Driver ! thou seest this pagan 
cousin of mine, and know'st his business 1 Prithee put 
him off with some whim or other. 

Bri. I warrant you, sir ; leave him to me ! 

Joe. Cousin ! your servant. I was just sending my 
man to speak with you ; but he knows the business, and 
can tell 't you as well as myself Come, Sir Gudgeon ; 
I'll wait on you ! [Exeunt Sir Gudgeon and Jocose. 

Got. Your servant, sir ; I thank you. 

Dri. Now, Mr. Gotam, you may see what 'tis to 
have a friend at court. You thought, I warrant, my 
master had forgotten you. 

Got. Why, truly, sir, this money has been due a 
pretty while — long before his wife died, I am certain. 

Dri. No more of that ! Suppose he put you on a 
business shall make you for ever, and be worth ye ; 
thou hast hardly faith enough to believe, what ! 
p 



226 THE PROJECTORS. 

Got Ah ! good Mr. Driver ; as how, I pray ] 

Dri. Why, thus : My master, you know, has great 
friends, and therefore doubts not but by their assist- 
ance to procure a patent of privilege to engross a 
business solely to himself I must confess it will 
scarce amount to more than a copyhold project. 

Got. What do you mean by that ? 

Dri. That is to say, it will not exceed ten thousand 
pound a year. And I can assure you, if ever there 
w^ere an ingenious invention, 'tis this ; and in this my 
master intends to take you in with him, and let you 
go what share you please. You shall do no worse 
than himself ! 

Got. Ah, sir, my cousin is an honest gentleman, and 
I have had long experience of his love ! How do ye 
call it % 

Dri. 'Tis an ignick, hydrelick, and hydroterrick in- 
vention, consisting of heat without fire or smoke ! 
And certainly nature and art melted down into the 
same body could not produce such another diacatho- 
licon that shall equally serve to all purposes, — roast, 
bake, boil, wash, brew, dry malt, hops, wheat, oats, 
and generally everything else, as I told you before, 
without the help of fire or smoke ! Now, sir, you 
know the business, and may consider of it. 

Got. Consider ! I apprehend it already, and find it 
too great to be dallied with. Why, it will destroy all 
the woodmongers upon the river, and reduce them to 
their first dung-boats again ! How have you done 
touching the charge ? 

Dri. Truly you have hit upon one of the main 
points, and part of the reason why my master made 
you privy to it. For, as on one hand we must take in 
some sharers to lessen the charge, so on t'other it 
behoves us to consider how many we may admit, for 
fear of diminishing the profits ! 

Got. Most true ! we'll carry 't on between ourselves. 
It will fall to my turn to be churchwarden this next 
year, and then I shall have the custody of the parish 
stock. If that will serve you, command it ; we shall 



THE PROJECTORS. 227 

be able, I hope, to fetch it up again before my time be 
out. 

Dri. By much. But the business is now on foot, 
and must not stand still for fear of spoiling, and there- 
fore we must be provided of present money; because, 
you know, some fees must be scatter'd among servants 
and clerks, and some other will go to making of trials. 
Things will not come without charge ! 

Got. You say right ! And now I think on 't, I may 
be able to bring in my neighbour Squeeze, the Exchange 
broker, and by his means old Mr. Suckdry and Mrs. 
Godsgood. There's money enough at an hour's warn- 
ing, if one could tell how to get it ! 

Dri. Pray, about it, and I'll see you to-morrow. If 
you go forth, leave word where I may find you. Fare- 
well ! I must follow my master. The knight and he 
are gone to see a proof of what I told you. 

[Exit Driver. 

Got. Farewell ! but mum. Certain I rise with the 
right end upward to-day, I have had such good luck ! 
I shall be an alderman, I see, in spite of all three-half- 
penny stars ! I think a brass jack-Kne would hang as 
well o' my shoulders as on another man's — certain it 
must. But see, my wife ! 

Enter Mistress Gotam. 

This hyterridinctido will be news to her, — i' faith will 
it ! Sweetheart ! well met ! 

Mrs. Got. I had as lief ha' found you at home. The 
main chance goes well forward in the meantime, and 
you never in your shop ! God held ! a beggar I found 
thee, and a beggar thou'lt leave me 1 

Got. Nay, wife, I have good news for thee. I have 
been with my cousin ! 

Mrs. Got. And has he paid you the money '? I am 
sure 't has been due ever since my first husband's 
time ! 

Got. 'Tis sure enough ! not too hasty, wife ; we are 
beholden to him. You know he took notice of me at 



228 THE PROJECTORS. 

court, show'd you the privy lodgings, got you a place 
at the play, gave you a bottle of the king's wine and 
a court tart, and sends us venison twice in a season, 
wife ! 

Mrs. Got Better he had sent his money, and I could 
have got t'other myself 1 Marry gip ! this is one of 
your old excuses. You think you have got a wife can 
maintain you, and now, forsooth, you must walk like 
a gentleman ! Sirrah, sirrah, look out and mind your 
business, or I'll make you look out ! 

Got. Good faith, I do. 

Mrs. Got. Yes, among your gills too much ! What 
was that you said to our maid t'other night in the 
kitchen, when you thought I was abed ? I heard 
you. You mought* have come up a pair of stairs 
higher if you had pleas'd. I don't wonder now she 
'as lost her stomach ! 

Got. This is nothing but thy jealous head. 

3frs. Got. Jealous ! Come up here ! You can be 
merry enough abroad when you are amongst your 
flirts, but at home you're as sad and lumpish as a 
gibb'd cat ! I can tell you the reason, — thou art sad 
because thou canst not bury me ! I half doubt the 
ratsbane you bought t'other day was not altogether for 
the rats ! Do you understand that, gentleman 1 

Got. Not I, in troth. 

Ifrs. Got. No, you won't ! you can understand your 
gossips well enough ! 'Tis a fine thing you must be 
perpetually hopping after them; and I, forsooth ! I 
cannot walk in the fields with a friend, but, whoop ! 
the house is too little for you ! My first husband was 
another kind of man ; my finger could not ache but he 
I woo's ! — nothing was too good for me. When will 
you say, " Dear wife ! honey wife ! sugar wife ! how 
dost thou ? Dost want anything 1 Would'st have a 
new gown 1 Go abroad 1 Walk to Islington 1 See the 
bears 1 Go whither thou wilt, do what thou hast a 
mind to, I am not jealous 1" Here was a husband ! 

[She cries. 

* Might, must. 



THE PROJECTORS. 229 

Got Prithee, have done ! I told thee I had been 
with my cousin, and have good news for thee ! 

Mrs. Got As what, I warrant ? 

Got What ! Such as shall make thee a lady within 
this twelvemonth ! My cousin and I are engag'd in 
a business cannot be less worth than fifteen thousand 
pounds a year honestly ! Now, wife, where's your 
loving husband % 

Mrs, Got Whatever I say in my passion thou 

art 'Tis but only to make thee better ! But 

hark ye, my dearl sha'nt we not keep a coach then ? 

Got A coach ! Yes, and eight horses ; and our 
country house new built ! Come, follow me ! and I'll 
tell thee the rest within, which I would have thee 
communicate to your friend Mrs. Godsgood, and bring 
her in for a share, while I do the same to my neigh- 
bour Squeeze, the Exchange broker ! Come ! 

Mrs. Got Anything, good husband ! I'll be thy best 
wife ! [Exeunt 



Act II. — Scene i. 

Enter Leanchops, solus. 

Lean. Well ! o' my conscience there was never so 
unlucky a fellow as myself ! Service, do you call it 1 
Certainly, if damnation be only poena sensus, that were 
a fitter name for it ! Here I live with a master that 
has wealth enough ; but so fearful, sad, pensive, sus- 
picious a fellow, that he disquiets both himself and 
every one else ! Art, I have heard say, has but seven 
liberal sciences, but he has a thousand illiberal ! There 
lives not a more base, niggardly, unsatiable pinch- 
penny, nor a more gaping, griping, polling,* extorting, 
devouring cormorant ! A sponge sucks not up faster, 
and yet a pumice gives back easier ! The sign is 
* Thieving, cheating. 



230 THE PROJECTORS. 

always with him in the clutches ; and a kite's pouncke 
truss'"' not more readily ! He shall watch you a young 
heir as diligently as a raven a dying horse, and yet > 
swallow him with more tears than a crocodile ! He i^ 
never sleeps but he seals up the nose of his belloTvs, 4 
lest they lose breath, and has almost broke his ' 
brains to find the like device for his chimney and his 
throat ! A gamester has not studied the advantage 
of dice half so much as he a sordid parsimony, -which 
yet he calls thrift ; and will tell you to a crumb how 
much difference there is in point of loss between a 
hundred dozen of bread broken with the hand and cut 
with a knife ! The devil's in him, and I am as weary 
of him as of our last journey, which both of us per- 
form'd on the same horse ! As thus : — In the morning, 
about two hours before him, out gets Peel Garlick, he 
jogs after, overtakes me, rides through the next town 
and a little beyond it, leaves palfrey agrazing for me and 
marches on himself In like manner I get up, overtake 
him, ride on, and leave him on this side the next town, 
and so order our business, that he rides out in the 
morning and into the inn at night, and through every 
town by the way. Nor need we fear any man's steal- 
ing him ! Smithfield, at the end of a long vacation, 
can't show such another wall-ey'd, crestfallen, saddle- 
back'd, flat-ribb'd, gut-founder'd, shoulder-pitch'd, spur- 
gall'd, hip-shotten, grease-moulten jade, besides splint, 
spavin, glanders, farce, stringhalt, sprains, scratches, 
malander, and wind-galls innumerable ! Like the 
fool's hobbyhorse, were it not for the name of a horse 
a man had as lief go afoot ; and thus we jog on in grief 
together. But hold ! I hear him — somewhat's amiss ! 

Enter Suckdry. 

Suck. Undone, undone ! whither should I run % 
whither should I not run % Stop there ! Whom % — 
what % — where % — I know not ! Leanchops ! 

* Pouncke — i.e. 'pounces,' — the talons or claws of a bird of 
prey. ' Trussing,' in falconry, is the hawk soaring up with any 
fowl or prey, and then descending with it. 



THE PROJECTORS. 231 

Lean. Sir, what ails you ? 

Suck. Oh ! a lost undone man ! What a deal of 
misery a day brings forth ! I have lost my money, 
and what should I live longer 1 Hunger and poverty 
will be my end ! 

Lean. How much have you lost, sir 1 

Suck. I believe thou knowest as well as I. Ah ! a 
whole half-piece ! gone, gone, gone, and I undone ! I 
believe thou hast found it ! Open your coat ! let's see 
your right hand ! your left hand — both hands — your 
third hand ! Ah, no hopes ! undone, undone ! 

Lean. Pray, sir, search ! Perhaps it may be about 
you ; you have many pockets ! 

Suck. Impossible, impossible ! Uh ! 

\They seccrch, and find it in a dirty cloth. 

Lean. Why, see now! may not you be asham'd to 
use me thus — and for nothing too 1 

Suck. Asham'd ! What should a poor man do with 
shame 1 Get in ! get in ! 

Lean. 'Tis past three of the clock, and I have eat 
nothing to-day ! 

Suck. This rogue's mind is nothing but his gut! 
A good thrifty servant, that minded his master's profit, 
-would have gone to the cook's and cheapen'd every 
joint, tasted all, but bought none, and made a good 
meal on 't ! One would think, sirrah, you might not 
be asham'd to do what your master has done before 
you ! Get in, I say, and look to the house ! 

Lean. There's no fear that any one will carry 't away ; 
and, for anything in 't, there's nothing but cobwebs ! 

Suck What's that he mutters ? No marvel, sirrah, 
if for your sake I am not made an alderman ! I will 
have the cobwebs preserv'd ; they are good for a cut 
finger ! Get in, I say ! How the slave stirs ! If I 
come to ye, I'll mend your snail's pace ! 

Lean. One were better be hang'd than endure this life ! 

Suck. How he mumbles the devil's ;paternoster ! 
Sirrah, get in! and stir one foot till I call ye and thou 
hast as good have broken thy neck ! So ; he's gone ! 

[Exit Leanchops. 



232 THE PROJECTORS. 

And I'll go visit my gold ! I am afraid I have spoken 
in my sleep, or dropp'd some word or other that may 
discover it, or that this rogue has eyes in his poll, 
and observ'd where I buried it ; but if he has, I'll so 
dig 'um out ! I have reason enough to suspect it — 
men speak more heartily to me than they were wont, 
are more free in their salutes, stop and talk with me, 
shake me by the hand, ask me how I do, whither I am 
going, what's my business, if they may serve me, and 
the like 1 Nay, Mr. Jocose t'other day would have 
giv'n me wine, and profFer'd his son should marry my 
daughter — without a portion, too ! Ah — ha ! I do not 
like when rich men speak kindly to a poor man; they 
offer bread with one hand, but carry a stone in t'other ! 
But I lose time ! — my gold, my gold ! This must be 
the place ! All's safe, and I'm alive again ! All 
hail ! — [A board sinks, arid his bags are discovered.] — 
Thou that givest form to everything ! thou sun of 
life ! thou guardian that protectest us I thou regent 
of the world, that disposeth of all things as thou best 
pleaseth, and without whom human society would 
quickly fall in pieces ! For, whatever else may be 
call'd the girdle, I am sure thou art the buckle that 
hold'st it together ! There ! rest in peace, my better 
angels ! — [He covers it again.] — And while I call 
ye mine, let the world frown, laugh, point, or hiss 
— one glance of yours is worth it all; and I shall 
want nothing but too few arms to hug myself! I 
shall be courted by every man, welcome everywhere — 
at least from the teeth outwards ; for in this world 
gold seasons and relishes everything, and men are 
received, not for the ass's, but the goddess's sake ! 
'Tis like having a handsome wife — every man is, or 
would be, your servant ! Ho ! Leanchops ! Lean- 
chops ! 

Enter Leanchops. 

Lean. Your pleasure, sir 1 

Suck. I am going abroad, Leanchops ! Shut the 
door after me, bolt it and bar it, and see you let no 



THE PROJECTORS. 233 

one in in my absence. Put out the fire, if there be 
any, for fear somebody, seeing the smoke, may come 
to borrow some ! If any one come for water, say the 
pipe's cut off; or to borrow a pot, knife, pestle and 
mortar, or the like, say they were stole last night ! 
But hark ye ! I charge ye not to open the door to 
give them an answer, but whisper 't through the key- 
hole ! For, I tell you again, I will have nobody come 
into my hoiise while I'm abroad ! No ; no living soul ! 
Nay, though Good Fortune herself knock at a door, 
don't let her in ! 

Lean. She'll have care enough of that herself. She 
has been often near us, but I think there is a cross 
upon the door — she ne'er came in yet ! 

Suck. Sirrah, sirrah, hold your peace, and do as I 
bid you ! 'Twould better become you to know more 
and speak less ! See it be done ! — [Knock within.] — 
See who's at door ; but let not one in till you have 
brought me word ! [Exit Leanchops. 

What a misery 'tis to be thought rich — one or other 
is perpetually haunting him ; while the poor man yet 
is rich in this, that he's troubled with none of it ! He 
fears neither thieves nor quartering of soldiers ! He 
is exempt from rates and parish duties ! He sleeps 
securely without bolts, and is subject to no man's 
envy ! Every man's trencher is his table, ever}'' place 
his own country, and lives in peace with all men but 
the justice, the constable, and the beadle ! 

Enter Leanchops. 

How now 1 Who was 't ? 

Lean. Mr. Squeeze, your Exchange broker ! He 
would fain speak with you ! 

Suck. ! let him in by all means. He is a good 
man, and never comes empty-handed ! Make haste 
before he be gone, sirrah ! [Exit. 

This rogue will never learn wit ! One would have 
thought he had liv'd long enough with me to have 
been able to distinguish persons ! I must ev'n discard 
him ; 'twill save charges !■ 



234 THE PROJECTORS. 

Entef Squeeze, Sir Gudgeon Credulous, Mrs. 
GoDSGOOD, and Gotam. 

Squ. I'll show you the way, gentlemen ! I have 
some interest in my pocket for him, and will pay him 
that first ; 'twill make him more supple ! I was just 
coming, sir, to wait on you with some money that I 
had receiv'd for you, and met with these gentlemen 
coming to me about a hke business, and I ev'n brought 
'em with me. 'Tis \Theij iohis;per. 

Suck. 0, they are welcome^they are welcome ! and 
chiefly yourself 1 It came in good time, for I profess 
I had hardly a groat in the house ! 

Got. How ^ Then our business is done already ! 
What's worse than ill luck 1 [To Squeeze. 

Squ. Please you to tell it over 1 The overplus is 
for continuance. [He whispers it. 

Suck. Don't speak so loud ! I understand you ! 

[Goes aside and counts it. 

Squ. Let him alone awhile ; let him handle the 
money 1 He means he has never a groat he would 
spare by his goodmll ! [They whisper. 

Suck. 'Tis all right and well, only here's a Parlia- 
ment sixpence ; pray change it ! 

Squ. How was I mistaken ? There, sir ! 

Suck. Hark you, neighbour ! what's their business ? 

Squ. Such as you never dealt in before — the most 
ingenioust invention was ever yet found out ! I'll 
undertake, after the first year, you may make cent, 
per cent, of your money every three months, besides 
a certain bank ready upon all occasions ! 

Suck. Say you so, good Mr. Squeeze ? As how — as 
how? 

Squ. They'll tell you that themselves. You know 
Mr. Gotam 1 — he has been always held a sober man ! 

Suck. Indeed has he, and well to pass. He is of 
the livery, and in a short time will be master of his 
company. He married the Widow Mince ! I knew 
her first husband ; he was a thriving man ! 

Squ. Marry was he ! But the business is of so 



THE PROJECTORS. 235 

great a concernment that 'tis not one or two ordinary 
men's purses are able to carry it on. The other is Sir 
Gudgeon Credulous, a worthy wise knight, and in his 
own country of the peace and quorum. 

Suck He seems no other. 

Squ. There is a gentlewoman, too — one Mistress 
Godsgood ! 

Suck. 0, I have heard of her ! A rich widow 1 

Squ. That she is, o' my knowledge — I deal for her. 
All persons concerned ; but the main wheel of the 
work is Mr, Jocose ! Faith, sir, I'd have you come in 
too ! As poor a man as I am, I am resolv'd to go in 
five hundred pounds ! 

S2ick But what shall you come out, neighbour 1 — 
what 

Squ. No man knows what ! You had best speak 
to 'um. 

Suck How much would they have from me ? 

Squ. That shall be as you please, whether anything 
or nothing ; only at present they would borrow of you 
two thousand pound 1 

Suck Two thousand pound ! Do you know what 
you say ? 

^ Squ. Yes ; £2000 ! You are too quick for me — I 
meant upon good security. 

Suck Oh, that alters the case ! Life is frail, man is 
mortal, but good security may do much ! AVhat is 
the security ? — Citizens or country gentlemen ? You 
know my way, — I must have a judgment at least ! 

Squ. Pray talk with 'em yourself. 

Suck You're welcome, mistress ! Sir Gudgeon 
Credulous, I understand? And you, Mr. Gotam? 
Your business with me 1 

Sir Chid. The same, sir ! I thought Mr. Squeeze 
had inform'd you ! 

Got. If he has not, we shall, 

Sitck Whj, truly, he has given me a smaU touch 
oft. 

Sir Gud. Then thus, sir, — ^we are all persons jointly 
concern'd in the same business, and we look upon 



236 THE PROJECTORS. 

the whole charge, what is past and to come, may 
amount to £9000 — somewhat under a year's profits ! 
Of this, I am out already £4000 ; the Widow Gods- 
good advances £1500 more ; Mr. Gotam, £1000 ; Mr. 
Squeeze, £500 ; and, to make up the sum, we would 
borrow of you £2000, upon good security ! 

Suck. Alas, sir ! £2000 ! — I am a poor man — 
£2000 and I are not so near of kin but we may 
marry to-morrow ! But if your security be like, and 
you'll be civil to me, I have some friends ! Pray, sir, 
what is your security ? [Spoken wliiningly. 

Sir Gild. Would the Court of Aldermen were as 
good ! Security ! 

Enter Leanchops. 

Lean. Sir, there's a gentleman at door inquires for 
you! 

Got. For me 1 It may be Mr. Jocose. Pray, desire 
him to come in ! I am glad he found m.e out ! Now 
you'll be able to see the very guts of the business ! 

Suck. What share goes he ? 

Sir Gud. Alas, sir, none ! 'Tis enough for him that 
the invention was, and the patent will be, his ! There's 
reason in all things ! 

Enter Driver. 

Oh, Mr. Driver ! Where's your master ] 

Got. AVhere's my cousin 1 

Dri. He intended to have been with you himself ; 
but being unluckily taken ill of the gout, he sent me 
to your house, where I heard of your being here. 

Suck. A good rich disease ! I warrant I shall ne'er 
be troubled with 't ! 

Dri All that he bade me signify to you was, that 
the work went well on, and only wanted more work- 
men and more materials ! 

Sir Gud. We are about it now, and have provided 
very well for the time. And now you are come, pray 
save me a labour, and let this gentleman understand 
the business. 



THE PROJECTORS. 237 

Dri. Which, sir 1 That of the Plegnic Screw, the 
Handquern, or the Horse-Wind- Water-Mill % 

Sir Gud. Ha, ha ! 

Suck. Have you more than one 1 

Sir Gud. Divers, divers — which is the reason of the 
excessive charge ! Though, troth, 'twas more than I 
knew before ! — [Adde.] — But the more the merrier ! 
Prithee, let's have that that is now in operation. I 
think you call'd it the Metalloi'ganicum Ignicadrilli- 
cum ! 

Dri. You mean that of a constant heat, without 
fire or smoke 1 

Sir Gud. The same — the same I 

Suck. How is 't possible 1 — which way ? 

Dri. Tell you that, and tell you all ! Every art has 
its occult quahty, which, once demonstrated, would 
cease to be a secret, and some other might chance to 
get between us and home ! However, since here are 
none but friends, and all well-willers, I "will give ye 
some small hints of 't, which, to be short, is singly 
effected by a new kind of motion, — for, you know, 
motion is the cause of heat, — and this, meeting with 
matter ready dispos'd, shall either work naturally by 
itself, or, in cases extraordinary, by an antiperistasis ; 
and be not only equi-snfficient, equi-cheap, equi-excel- 
lent, as all minor projects pretend to, but more cheap, 
more sufficient, and super-excellent, which, when we 
are better acquainted, I will easily demonstrate ! 

Suck. I'll promise you, if this be able to be made 
good, 'twill save abundance of wood and coals ! 

Dri. That's least ! What say you to this "? First, 
There can be no danger of firing ; for, as I told you 
before, 'tis done without fire ! Secondly, You are not 
troubled with smoke, the greatest enemy to man's 
health ! Thirdly, No soot shall fall into the pot, nor 
fat be lost in the fire ! Fourthly, It shall so preserve 
the radical moisture, juice, and substance of hops and 
malt, that whereas now they retain in a manner only 
their fixed salt and excrementitious dead substance, 
this shall so conserve their balsamical spirits that 



238 THE PROJECTORS. 

the brewer shall be able to afford twelve - shilling 
beer at half-a-crown a barrel, and get more by 't than 
he does now ! Fifthly, As you well observ'd, no 
charge of fuel ! Sixthly — which one were enough by 
itself — It is an invention, or rather a new marvellous 
art, useful to all and injurious to none, and such as, 
besides the eternizing our names to posterity, shall 
give us at present honour, fame, friends, wealth, and, 
as a consequent of that, everything ! 

[The rest whisper, while Squeeze and 
SuCKDRY discourse. 

Sqii. What think you of this, sir '? 

Suck. 0' my word, no contemptible business ! I 
hear he has more on foot — and why mayn't we get 
one to ourselves % 

Squ. Perhaps you may; and the lending this money 
may be a good introduction to t'other ! 

Such. Don't you think they would take half money 
and half jewels? 

Squ. Perhaps they might ; but then you must en- 
large the sum, or they may want money to carry on 
the work ! 

Suck. You say right ! What's their security % 

Squ. O' my conscience, if you would but stand 
upon 't, they'd go near to mortgage to you a third or 
a fourth part of the clear profits ! 

Suck. Softly ! Don't talk of a fourth ! I'll make 
'um believe I will have a moiety ; though, rather than 
fail, I could be contented with less ! 

Squ. If I might advise you, sir {They whisper. 

Dri. Why, truly, to tell you truth, we have made 
very few proofs of the rest ; but if you will call at 
my master's, I'll give you that account of 'em may 
be worth your trouble ! There will be enough for 
you all ! 

Sir Gud. But hark ye, Mr. Driver, don't you bob 
me off with a third-rate project now ! 

Dri. Sir Gudgeon, that you should think so ! 

Suck. Do you propose it to 'um ! [To Squeeze. 

Squ. I shall, sir ! Mr. Gotam, you know we pro- 



THE PROJECTORS. 239 

pounded £2000 for Mr. Suckdry? I have done the 
work, and he shall be contented with a third part of 
the profits for security. I hope you ^vill consider me 
in my share 1 [Aside. 

Got. And all the reason in the world ! You hear, 
gentlemen, what he says 1 

Sir Gud. I would have him secured. But I would 
not, though, leave a twenty-shilling piece in pawn for 
a groat ! 

Such Alas, sir ! 'tis none of my money — 'tis my 
friend's, and I'll account truly between you both. If 
you intend honestly, you cannot give too great se- 
curity. 

Dri. You may do it ; I'll undertake my master shall 
not oppose it. 

Sir Gud. Then get ready the writings. I hope we 
shall have a good account in a short time ! 

Suck. As soon as you please ! — I'll about it straight. 
We may be all made, and send us but good luck ! 

Sir Gud. Well, sir, farewell for the present ! 

[Exeunt all hut Suckdry and Driver. 

Suck Farewell, good gentlemen ! But stay, Mr. 
Driver — pray stay ! Let me speak with you ! Me- 
thought you were saying your master had a great 
many other projects 1 Surely — surely, he must be a 
very rich man 1 

Dri. Why, faith, sir, he is well enough, tho' he be 
at a great deal of charge ; for now and then an engine 
breaks, and an experiment fails ! Should all take 
right, he would be too rich; but that's almost im- 
possible 1 He that will get must now and then ven- 
ture to lose ! This is our comfort — the first good hit 
pays for all miscarriages ! 

Suck That's well ! But pray, tell me, what children 
has your master 1 

Dri. One son, sir, and that's all. I have often ask'd 
him why he toils himself to leave so great an estate, 
when the tenth part of what he has already would 
serve my young master and to spare ! 

Suck No ill sign ! — I like him the better. But dost 



240 THE PROJECTORS. 

think he was in earnest when he proposed a match 
between his son and my daughter 1 

Dri. Yes, truly ; if he said it, you may believe him. 
But, alas ! what should my young master do with all 
that wealth you two are like to leave him ] 

Such Keep it — keep it — and breed more ! Prithee, 
tell me, dost think thy master would settle a good 
swinging project upon him in possession 1 

Dri. Yes, truly, I believe he may. 

Suck. Then, hark you ! pick me out a good round 
one, and it may not be the worse for thee ! 'Tis the 
first part of falconry to hold fast ; and if thy young 
master has that good quality, I dare trust him for the 
rest, or he may quickly learn it ! 

Dri. I shall be glad with all my heart to be an 
instrument in the business ! And now, upon second 
thoughts, I think your daughter may make an excel- 
lent wife for him ! 

Such. Your reason, good Mr. Driver'? — your reason? 

Dri. Because I have so often heard him protest 
against your great matches, as he calls 'em, and com- 
pares 'em to an ill pudding — all blood and no fat. 

Such. I'll be sworn a hopeful young man ! But tell 
me — ^prithee, be true to me ! — ^what kind of wife does 
he most affect, if he might have his choice ? 

Dri. What % Ev'n a good honest man's daughter, 
that shall bring him no charge, nor put him in fear of 
being eat out by her kindred ! One that shall never 
send her husband on a how -d'- ye, or keep more 
coaches in town than he has ploughs going in the 
country! One that shall not spend his Michaelmas 
rents in Midsummer moon, and cost him more in 
sails and rigging than the hull's worth ! 

Such. 'Tis a hundred pities but thou were super- 
visor-general of the female sex ! 

Dri. Faith, sir, I car'd not much if I were — I should 
be the better able to serve my friends ; but this is 
not all ! 

Such. Prithee, on ! I like it well. 

Dri. One that is not haunted with perfumers, lace- 



THE PROJECTORS. 241 

men, milliners, silkmen, jewellers, mercers, exchange 
men, seamsters ; and, heyday ! and can be contented 
with her husband's tailor ! One that understands not 
the way of smooth-chinn'd pages, and can find both 
lackeys and women in a single chambermaid ! One 
that was never read beyond aquafortis and tinning- 
glass, and is as much gravelled at Spanish paper and 
talk as a country vicar at an Hebrew pedigree ! One 
that has no aunts nor she-cousins to visit, and goes not 
above thrice a week to the drawers for new patterns ! 
One, to be short, that is all herself, and thinks it no 
scorn to be her own seamstress and tirewoman ! 

Suck Say'st thou me so, my heart 1 And if I ha' n't 
a girl that tits him, she is not like her father ! Come, 
Mr. Driver, be but assistant in striking up this match, 
and thou shalt ne'er know what it may be worth 
thee ! Come ! — ^A man must promise at large though 
he perform at leisure — hope makes men diligent ! 

[Aside. Exeunt. 



Act III. — Scene i. 

Enter JocosE, Ferdinand, in a Precisian habit, 
and Driver. 

Joe. Ay, this is something ! I protest I should 
hardly have known thee myself ! But one thing — 
I do not like this hat; 'tis so high crown'd, he'll swear 
'tis mere waste, and three ounces of stuff might have 
been well sav'd ! 

Fer. That may be quickly mended, either by getting 
another or circumcising this ! It lies under the band, 
and will ne'er be seen, or if it should, he'll like it the 
better. 

Dri. Ne'er doubt it, sir ! It must take, for I have 
read him such a lecture of my young master's frugality 
that he is out of all patience till he see him; and if you 
can but outcant him now, the work's done ! 
Q 



242 THE PROJECTORS. 

Fer. That must be left to chance ! and yet, 'tis not 
impossible but I may make my party good with him. 
Have I liv'd in Genoa, where the Jews come laughing 
in and go crying out, as having met with greater Jews 
than themselves, and do you think I shall not be able 
to deal with him 1 I warrant ye ! 

Joe. Well said, Nando ! A good confidence is half 
the thing ! 

Fer, But when must this robbery be 1 

Dri. I expect him here instantly, though not pur- 
posely, about this business ; for my design was to have 
it come on, as it were, by the by, and of itself ! 

Joe. What other business has he 1 

Dri. Oh, sir, to see how the main work goes for- 
ward. Besides, he expects you should settle a good 
lusty project upon my young master, and I am wide 
of the mark if he is not hammering at another for 
himself ! And to tell you truth, so they are all ! 

Joe. Now, send that thou hast not engag'd us further 
than we shall be able to get off fairly ! 

Dri. Pray, sir, trust me! Have I desired you to 
appear in 't 1 or been wanting to 't in anything my- 
self? 

Joe. Well, I refer it to thee. But must you have all 
the sport % Were 't not possible that I might at least 
laugh inwardly'? 

Dri. I was just making it my request to you that 
you would so dispose yourself as to overhear the dis- 
course, and perhaps it may not be unworth your 
while. For the men, having consider'd that two heads 
are better than one, have communicated it to their 
wives, and ask'd their advice in the point ; and they 
are so agog upon 't that they must have their projects 
too, and amongst them you'll find your widow ! I 
never saw things hit more luckily; 'tis impossible but 
you must carry her! 

Joe. Do you expect 'em here ? 

Dri. I wonder they stay so long, and when they 
come what they will say! — [Knock within.'] — That 
knock may chance to be theirs ! 



THE PROJECTORS. 243 

Joe. Take the occasion of leaving 'em alone, for 
perhaps they may be more free amongst themselves 
than if either of us were present ! 

Enter Servant. 

Ser. Sir, here are some gentlewomen that inquire 
for yourself or Mr. Driver ! 

Dri. It must be them ! 

Joe. Desire 'em to walk in ! [Exit Servant. 

Do you tell 'em I am a little busy, but you'll go and 
acquaint me with it ! You shall find me in that 
window ! [Exit Jocose and Ferdinand. 

Dri. So — and now for the good women ! But what 
to say to 'em, tell he that can — he must be better read 
in these books than I am ! 

Enter Mrs. Godsgood, Mrs. Gotam, Mrs. 
Squeeze, and Nancy. 

Dri. Ladies ! your servant ! And had you not 
commanded the contrary, I had sav'd you this trouble 
by waiting on you myself ! 

Mrs. Got. No, sir; 'tis our own business, and we 
thought least notice might be taken of it by discours- 
ing it here ! 

Mrs. Squ. Yes, indeed, 'twas all our opinions ! 
Only, I must confess, the widow here would have 
preferr'd a little state before convenience ! 

Mrs. Gods. But since I was overrul'd, pray, sir, 
where's your master 1 

Dri. I'll let him know you are here, and he'll wait 
on you presently ! 

3Irs. Got. I think this gentleman would be able to 
do our business as well ! 

3frs. Squ. Yes, truly ! He looks like a likely man ! 

Mrs. Gods. However, if Mr. Jocose were present 
too, 'twere no whit the worse. 

Dri. Be pleas'd to repose yourselves a while, and it 
will not be long 'ere my master wait on you ! 

Omnes. Your servant, sir ! [Exit Driver. 

Mi's. Gods. Come, neighbours ! I think it were not 



244 THE PROJECTORS. 

amiss if we agreed among ourselves what we would 
have before they come ! 

Mrs. Got Now, truly and indeed, 'twas well mov'd I 

Mrs. Squ. I like it well ; pray begin ! 

3Irs. Got. Trust me, not I ; but I'll do as good, I'll 
put in now and then. Pray, ^Irs. Godsgood ! 

Mrs. Gods. However you mistook me, I meant it so. 
Pray, madam — no pray, forsooth ! — Avill you 1 

Mrs. Squ. Not I, indeed ! How say you 1 — The 
widow 1 

Omnes. The widow — ^the widow ! 

Mrs. Gods. Then, in obedience to your commands, 
and may this present meeting be happy and prosper- 
ous to ourselves and the whole commonwealth of 
women, and that we propose those things that may 
be for the common good and dignity of the sex. 
You cannot be ignorant how much your husbands 
have encroached upon you, or, to speak truth, how 
much we have all lost by letting the men engross all 
business to themselves, without so much as asking our 
advice, as if we, forsooth, were no part of them, and 
made to no other end but to sit at home and prick 
our fingers ! 

3frs. Got. Ay, indeed, a public grievance. 

3Trs. Squ. The more's the pity. 

Mrs. Gods. Pray, sisters, has not every pitiful cor- 
poration its counsel, the meanest parish its vestry, 
and our very fumblers their common hall 1 And shall 
women only lose their privilege 1 — shall we alone do 
nothing ? 

3Irs. Got. Had we no more wit than to be rul'd by 
our husbands, we shouldn't ; but for all that, we now 
and then do our parts, and sometimes, too, more than 
comes to our shares. 

Mrs. SqiL Thank themselves that won't be quiet 
when 'tis well ! 

3frs. Gods. Pray, no interruptions in the middle of 
a speech ; there will be time enough for all ! Nor 
would I set up a new thing, — only revive an ancient 
and laudable, though somewhat antiquated, custom. 



THE PROJECTORS. 245 

I have heard of an old emperor, somewhere or other, 
that ordain'd that, as he had his council of men, so 
his wife should have hers of women, which should be 
independent, and without appeal to t'other ! 

Mrs. Got. Marry, away with him ! — an old man ! — 
what should we do with him 1 And I have heard of 
a place, too, where they hung up the men, after they 
come to threescore, as things past their labour, and 
consequently useless ! 

Mrs. Gods. Yet, again 

Mrs. Squ. No more of that, good sister ; for, if I 
mistake not the stoiy, they were more severe upon 
us, and burnt us for witches at forty ! 

Mrs. Gods. Heyday ! Pray, sisters 

Mrs. Squ. Peace — silence ! 

Mrs. Got. With all my heart ! No offence, I hope 1 

Mrs. Squ. None on my part, I assure you ! 

Mrs. Gods. More still ! This council, as I told you, 
whether in jest or earnest it matters not, they call'd 
the She Senate ; and this is that which our present in- 
terest should prick us forward to restore ! Nor let it 
be any rub in the way that women are forbid to speak 
in public, that being meant of a congregation of men, 
and I speak only of an assembly of women ; for other- 
wise, if we were ever to hold our tongues, to what use 
were they given us 1 Those tongues, I say, that if 
they might would speak sense as well as their own, and 
upon a good occasion could be as loud ! Think you, 
I warrant, they were given us to no other end but to 
lick our teeth and cheapen eggs 1 I think not ! And 
why should we not use 'em, then 1 No doubt but we 
may, and perhaps, too, to as much purpose as the 
men ; for could we look into their councils, 'tis ten to 
one but we should find many things ourselves would 
have been asham'd of ! How common is it with them 
to be five days in wording the question, and as many 
more e'er they can put it right, and perhaps at last 
make nothing of it ; whereas we are plain downright 
— we think what we please and speak what we think ! 
How does this consultation thwart that, a third both, 



246 THE PKOJECTORS. 

a fourth all, as if they met only to justify the proverb, 
so many men, so many minds ; whereas we, if the 
reins were in our hands, if we did not manage them 
better, I am sure it could not be worse ! 

Mrs. Got. Well open'd ! Pray, proceed ! 

Mrs. Gods. I think this enough for introduction. 
The next thing I would have consider'd is, of what 
persons this council should consist % 

Mrs. Got. Of whom but women *? 

Mrs. Squ. All that will — ^what else 1 

Mrs. Gods. That would be rather a tumult than a 
council ! 

Mrs. Got. And to select a few and exclude the rest 
would be — what d'ye call it % — the men have a hard 
word for 't — oli — oli — oligar — fie upon 't, I can't hit 
it ! Oil and garlic I think they call 't ; 'tis either 
that or somewhat near it — a very mark of tyranny ! 

Mrs. Gods. Pray, no more interruptions ! If you do 
not like it, refer it to another time. And first, if I 
might advise, I would have no maids of this council ! 

Nan. No maids ! Why, I pray 1 Were you never 
one yourself, or was it so long since you have forgot 
it? 

Mrs. Gods. Pray, give me leave ! I say no maids, 
because we may happen to speak that among ourselves 
that may not be fit for them to hear ! 

Nan. Goodly — goodly ! as if we could not tell how 
the market went, though we neither bought nor sold 
in't! 

Mrs. Got. Well said, little gentkwoman ! Stand up 
for your privilege ! 

Mrs. Squ. I warrant they are not so ill bred but 
they know what's what as well as ourselves ! How 
say you, Mrs. Nancy ? Do not you know a pudding 
from a cart wheel 1 

Nan. I think I do ! 

Mrs. Squ. Did not I tell you so 1 

Mrs. Got. But how will you know which are maids 
and which not 1 Do not all go for maids till they are 
married ? 



THE PROJECTORS. 247 

Mrs. Squ. And are not some afterwards ] What 
think you of those that have overgrown old fellows to 
their husbands 1 May not they be call'd maids, though, 
perhaps, much against their will ? 

Mrs. Gods. However, for honour's sake, we'll think 
'em otherwise. But my meaning was, that none be 
receiv'd but such as are, or have been, married ! 

Mrs. Got. Well distinguish'd ! And yet, perhaps, 
it might be no hurt if they sat behind the hangings, 
though they gave no voice ; 'twould make 'em the 
abler against they came to 't themselves ! 

Mrs. Gods. For that, as you please. But, pray, no 
more interruptions ! The next, I would have none 
admitted that have been shod round ; and amongst 
them I would place such as are past fifty, who, like 
old garrisons, are fit for nothing but to be slighted, 
and the rather, too, to make room for others ! 

Mrs. Got. And good reason. Pray, on 1 

3Irs. Gods. Then, I would have none admitted that 
had not first purg'd herself by her corporeal oath that 
she had never made her husband a cuckold ; unless 
she be very ugly, and that in such cases it be taken 
for granted that she has not ! 
' 3frs. Got. Now out upon 't ! 

3Irs. Squ. This widow, I see, would make a very 
tyrant ! 

Mrs. Got. Confess, and be hang'd ! — I am for none 
oft! 

3frs. Squ. Nor I neither. Here's a fetch with all my 
heart ! 

3frs. Gods. At least you may qualify it by proviso, 
that if it be done to oblige a gentleman, she may, 
notwithstanding, etc. 

Mrs. Got. That alters the case a little. But I am 
clearly for throwing out both. 

Mrs. Squ. And so am I — at least for lajdng the 
debate aside till a full house. 

Mrs. Gods. What you please — I do but off'er. Next, 
that if any discover the secrets of the house abroad, 
that such person or persons have their tongues com- 



248 THE PROJECTORS. 

mitted to a three days' silence, without bail or main 
price ! * 

Mrs. Got. Insufferable ! 

Mrs. Squ. A tyranny never heard of before. 

Mrs. Gods. Pray have patience ! Next, that none 
be permitted to speak irreverently of their husbands, 
inasmuch as, be the men what they will, the wives' 
honour depends upon theirs — to traduce them were 
but, in effect, to disgrace ourselves ! 

Mrs. Got. Oh ! worse and worse ! 

Mrs. Squ. Abominable, and not to be endured ! 

[They walk and fume. 
Driver and Jocose appear above. 

Dri. You see, sir, how hard your widow's beset. I 
think 'twere not amiss if you reliev'd her ! 

Joe. And so I will. She's better qualifi'd than I 
expected. Follow me ! 

Mrs. Got. Not speak irreverently, as you call it ! Do 
you think it reasonable that my sham-legg'd Monsieur 
should say what he please of me, and I nothing 1 Or 
fit, I woos, that he be ever rambling abroad, when, 
though I say it myself, I am as able a woman for the 
matter of the point of that as any woman in the two 
next parishes ! And I must sit still and blow my 
nails, forsooth ! 

Mrs. Squ. Or that mine should be perpetually abus- 
ing and striking me? I am sure he has so pommell'd 
me about the head that I am hardly able to bear a 
cup of drink, as they say! For, look ye, d' ye see, 
when I am troubled, I go to the Salutation with two 
or three neighbours or so, and call for our gills of sack 
apiece ! — alas, you know it is not much ! — and then 
we sit and chat over it; and look ye, d' ye see, I am 
now and then troubled with a rheum in my side, 
and go lame a little, and then when I come home my 
rogue says I am drunk, and stink of aquavitce ; when, 
alas, 'tis well known 'tis mere grief — mere grief makes 
me in that condition ! Aa ! you don't know this 

* Delivery into the custody of a friend, upon security given for 
appearance. 



THE PROJECTORS. 249 

husband of mine : he were a very devil but that he 
wears his horns ! And is this to be borne, think you ? 

Joe. Hold a little — not yet ! 

[To Driver offering to enter. 

Mrs. Got. No, by my troth, is it not ! Come, come ! 
serve him as I did mine ! He struck me t'other day, 
and I set out my throat as loud as I could that he 
had murdered me for what I had ; and as the neigh- 
bours came in, I made 'em believe I was in a swoon, 
and held him so long in suspense that from that day 
forward I got the staff into mine own hand ! Ah ! my 
poor first husband — he was a man of a thousand ! I 
could have made him believe the cow was made of 
wood ! But how d' ye think I brought him to 't ? 
Even by complaining first, and pretending he did this 
and that in his drink, which he, good man, never 
thought of; and, if ever he denied it, 'twas but bring- 
ing my maid to witness, and I was sure to be asked 
pardon. 

Mrs. Squ. Ay, here were a woman for the chair ! 

Mrs. Gods. With all my heart. 

3frs. Squ. Then for the quorum, — if two women and 
a goose make a market, I see no reason why three 
may not make a council, at least to determine, tho' 
not to hear. 

Mrs. Got. I agree with you ; — and truly I think so 
we should all. But for this widow, — she 's insuffer- 
able ! Come, neighbour Squeeze, I see we must be 
well advis'd whom we trust the chair with : she may 
in time betray our liberties. 

Enter Jocose and Driver. 

Joe. Madam, your servant ! Methought I heard you 
somewhat hot ; couldn't you agree ? 

Mrs. Got. No indeed, sir, nor is it likely. 

Mrs. Squ. Truly, I think 'twere not amiss if we 
entreated this gentleman to take up the business. 

Mrs.. Gods. You could not have thought better. 
Pray, sir, will you give yourself a small trouble to 
oblige us 1 



250 THE PROJECTORS. 

Joe. Alas, madam, 'tis too large a parish for me ! how- 
ever, I shall look upon your entreaties as commands. 
What may it be 1 

Mrs. Squ. Why, thus, an't please you. 

Mrs. Got. No, pray let me 1 

Joe. Hold ! suppose we walked in, we should be less 
subject to disturbance. Will 't please you, madam 1 

Omnes. With all our hearts. 

[Jocose leads off G-odsgood, they follow, 
Driver manet. 

Dri. Call you me this matrimony % Help the good 
man, say I, for I am sure they need it ; and yet certain 
there must be some little, I know not what in't, that 
I am ignorant of, or they would not be so hot upon't, 
that like bold seamen, having 'scaped one wreck, they 
dare yet venture on another. Whatever it be, I envy 
it no man ; bless him with it, say I. I had rather 
believe my share of it than run the experiment j for, 
as far as I have ever observed, between a quiet and an 
unquiet woman there is only this difference, that he 
that has the first rides an ambling horse to the devil, 
and he that has the second a trotter. 

Enter Sir Gudgeon Credulous and Gotam. 

Sir, your servant ! 

Sir Gud. Honest Mr. Driver. And how 1 what 
news ? Ha' you been as good as your word 1 

Dri. Yes, sir, here are some ! — and you may take 
your choice. [Shows his bag. 

Sir Gud. Aa ! Mr. Driver, you were ever my friend. 
But prithee satisfy me by discoursing the reason of 
them, as why some are more lucky in their hits than 
others. 

Dri. You must know, sir, that inventions came by 
degrees, but have ever had this ill fortune to be fatal 
to the first inventors, who have only discovered a new 
shore to shipwreck their persons on it, or bury their 
fortunes in it. 

Got. How shall we do then 1 

Dri. Well enough ! We have this advantage, that 



THE PROJECTORS. 251 

others have gone before us, and broke the ice to our 
hands. However, we must not be so hasty as to expect 
all things should be done at once. No ! Nature makes 
no leaps, and Invention, which is the handmaid of 
Nature, must but follow her and take pattern from 
her. 

Sir Gud. Nay, I grant ye, time perfects everything ; 
nor can it be thought that our invention should be so 
absolute, as that it were impossible to be improved. 

Bri. You have hit the point, and learnedly. How- 
ever, for demonstration : — The spade and shovel were 
primitive inventions, and from thence came the plough ; 
in like manner from the rake, the harrow ; from the 
pestle and mortar, all sort of mills, whether horizontal 
or plegnick, horse, hand, wind, water, or otherwise ; 
from the wheel-barrow, carts and coaches ; from the 
scraping of a hen, letters ; from pease-hulls in the 
kennel, the invention of shipping ; and from a kite's 
tail, the rudders to 'um. I should have mentioned 
another thing, which, how simple soever at first, 't has 
been since improved to a wonder. 

Got. As what, good sir ? 

Dri. Why, thus : You know men originally lapt 
water like dogs, but finding that a little troublesome, 
they soop't from their hands; from thence came 
wooden dishes, thence earthen pitchers, thence black- 
jacks, thence flagons, thence cans, thence horns, thence 
pewter cups, thence glasses, and, as an eumechanic from 
the whole, silver and gold tankards. 

Sir Gild. I'll be sworn thou hast cut out the business 
notably. 

Got. Marry has he ! — a shrewd fellow. But hark 
you ! have you remembered me 1 

Bri. Presently ! I was just coming t' ye ; and shall 
only tell you, by way of prolegomena, that inventions 
are of two sorts, to wit, either such as are destructive 
to human society — as the invention of walking in- 
^dsible, and making ships and boats sail in the air as 
well as on the water, which we call Cacamechana — or 
such as are advantageous and useful ; and of this kind, 



252 THE PROJECTORS. 

I think I can show you as much choice as any man, 
whatever he be. 

Sir Gud. I must confess I am for those, — let's see ! 

Got. Ay, ay! —Those, those ! 

Dri. You see, gentlemen, I am not shy to you ; I 
dare trust you to peruse my papers ! 

[They turn over his papers. 

Sir Gud. Aa ! good Mr. Driver, what are these % 

Dri. Let me see ! — most excellent things ! You 
know, sir, we Englishmen chiefly buzzle our heads 
about two things, that is to say, religion and trade ; 
and truly you have luckily hit upon both, — the one 
is a project for a divinity mill, that shall go by any 
wind, and never stand still. 

Sir Gud. But of what use ? 

Dri. Marry, to grind controversy, and that so fine 
and subtle, it shall hardly be perceptible, and, I'll 
undertake, make more proselytes than ever did 
Chaucer's Friar with his shoulder-blade of the lost 
sheep. 

Sir Gud. Lay that by ! I'll fit you a chapman. 
T'other ! 

Dri Why, this — 'tis the height of art ! An em- 
porentick invention, of making cloth without wool. 

Got. How's that 1 Cloth without wool ! Make me 
but that good, and write your own conditions. 

Sir Gud. With your favour, sir, I was in before you. 
Pray, go on ! — how is it to be done % 

Dri. Why, thus : — I shall discover all. 

Sir Gud. Not to your friend, good Master Driver % 

Dri. Then thus : you must gather the atoms into 
a glass well ground, and then thread them upon a 
fine imperceptible loom ; and, when they are once 
wove, 'tis easy milling them to what consistence you 
please. 

Sir Gud. But how shall we do for this loom ? 

Dri. Did you never hear of Vulcan's net 1 — You 
must take copy by that. 

Sir Gud. Cry y'mercie ! good Mr. Driver, this shall 
be mine. I have a glass, as one would say, made for 



THE PROJECTORS. 253 

the purpose, — a most excellent optic ; it shall make you 
an atom show as big as a quarter-staff. 

Dri. Alas, sir ! the thread will be too big, and fit for 
nothing but to thrum coverlets ; whereas my design 
in't was to alter the affairs of Christendom, by break- 
ing the Spanish trade of fine wool, and the Dutch new 
manufactures. 

Sir Gud. I apprehend you ! — the price 1 

Dri Why, troth, sir, it will not go under five hun- 
dred pound and a quarter share. 

Sir Gud. No more ! I'll give thee a note to my 
goldsmith, honest Mr. Driver. 

[He goes aside and writes. 

Got. Here — here ! Mr. Driver. What are these 1 

Dri. A rare invention for the sealing of butter, 
without the charge of butter prints ; — the same for 
gingerbread. 

Got. Go on. This ! 

Dri. This — a whirligig for draining the sea for 
treasure-trove. But to this there belongs another — 
oh ! I have it, — a device to stop up the rivers, that 
they shall n't run in till the work be over. But this 
will be a work of time and charge. 

Got. However, the profit will answer it. 

Dri. Here are others would do as well, or better ; — 
you grasp at too great things ; — an invention for the 
making books sell at treble the rate they would have 
done otherwise. 

Got. As how, good sir 1 My brother shall be in for 
this. 

Dri. By a fine new title and picture before it ; or if 
that fail, getting 'um suppressed, and somewhat else 
which I shall only tell the bookseller himself A new 
engine for the better sowing of wheat and setting of 
leeks. A proposition for the farming the excise upon 
Jews' trumps and town tops. 

Sir Gud. Not forgetting nine-pins and shovel-board 
tables, I beseech ye. 

Got. As how, I pray ? — can that amount to anything 1 

Dri. Almost incredible ! there's a great mystery in 't ; 



254 THE PROJECTORS. 

for look you, sir : do but consider how many more 
boys than men there are, and then make the conjec- 
ture. Where's this 1 — Oh ! here ! — Be happy. Here's 
an invention will do thy work : — thou may'st even 
shut up shop, or do what thou wilt. 

Got I can turn it over to another, which will be all 
one, — what is't ? 

Dri Why, 'tis a project to incorporate the gold- 
finders, and makes 'um turn saltpetre-men ; for, be- 
sides that the materials will be exceeding cheap, the 
learned, upon experiment, have found it makes the 
best gunpowder by reason of its nitrous quality, and 
the refuse, most incomparable soap ; an invention 
must necessarily destroy the trade of potashes, and 
consequently bring all the soapboilers in London 
under your girdle. 

Got. I'm satisfied ! Not a word to Sir Gudgeon ; — 
let's shake him ofi", and you and I'll drive the bargain 
by ourselves. Pray, sir, use me as kindly as you can, 
and I promise to consider you better as the profits 
shall arise. 

Dri. Well, sir, I shall not press too hard upon a 
young beginner. I hope you'll be as good as your word. 

Got. If I am not ■ 

[Sir Gudgeon gives Driver a note. 

Sir Gud. Here, sir ! If to-morrow be anything fair, 
I'll begin the experiment, and perhaps make some small 
essay this night upon the moon. 

Dri. I know not what excellent quality your glass! 
may have above others ; but, if I might advise you, I 
would defer it to the dog-days. 

Sir Gild. The goodness of my glass will supply a 
small defect. I'll tell you what, — but you'll happily 
believe it,- — I have discovered with it a flea in the 
Bear's tail, and a louse in Caput Algol — Anglice, 
Medusa's head. 'Tis but trying. — Come, I am out of 
patience till I set it on foot. My service to your 
master ; I cannot stay to talk with him now. Fare- 
well ! 

Dri Your servant, sir ! [Exeunt severally. 



THE PROJECTORS. 255 

Act IV. 
Enter Squeeze and Driver. 

Dri Good Mr. Squeeze, no more ! — I am so full of 
business I can hardly tell which to set about first. 

Squ. But I am afraid these will scarce turn to 
account. 

Dri. How ! — not turn to account ! Is the sole 
engrossing of all love letters, whether in verSe or 
prose, within the realm of England, dominion of 
Wales, and town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, so cheap 
in our eyes "l Besides, that unimaginable project of 
procuring a fifth term and the multiplication of 
oflSces, according to the augmentation of suits, so 
slight with you ? the boundless avarice of insatiate 
men ! 

Squ. Nay, good Mr. Driver ! 

Dri. What ! Nothing content you, unless you fine 
for Sheriff the first year 1 Gi' me 't again. 

Squ. Pray, sir, are you angry because my wit is 
not so ripe as yours ? Great things are not so easily 
apprehended. Suppose I offer'd that of a fifth term 
to the Inns of Court and Doctors Commons, do you 
think they would advance anything considerable 
upon 't 1 

Dri. Think ! About it, and be thankful. We shall 
have you now once in a twelvemonth not know your 
old friends ! But if you do, it shall be a warning to 
me how I ever — — 

Squ. What d'ye take me for ? Pray, no more. 
Fare you well ! \_Exit Squeeze. 

Dri. Your servant ! — So, so ; the wheels go merrily 
round. And now for my main game, Mr. Suckdry. 
If I can but squeeze that sponge into my young 
master's pocket, the work's done. Let me see ! — 
[Noise tvithin.] — He must not take me unprovided. 
Hark ! 'tis he. [He turns over his hundle. 



256 THE PROJECTORS. 

Enter Suckdry. 

A project for the reprinting of Tom Thumb with mar- 
ginal notes and cuts ; and that every man within this 
kingdom buy it of the patentee at the rate of twelve 
pence, or come up to town to show cause why he will 
not. 

Suck. Good ! I won't disturb him yet. 

Dri. Another, for raising sixpence upon every 
thousand of bricks ; and twopence a joint for every 
joint of meat that shall be dressed on Fridays and 
Saturdays. 

Such Excellent ! This fellow will be rich ; he minds 
his business. 

Dri. That every usurer pay twelve pence per pound 
out of all interest money towards charitable uses, and 
that the patentee have the disposing of 't. 

Suck. Oh ! he'll spoil all again. \He starts. 

Dri. Who's there 1 Mr. Suckdry ! Your servant. 
You see I am at work for you ; but this is not the 
business I have design'd for you. Hmh ! 'tis come at 
last. Here 'tis ! A thing shall bring you in a vast 
deal of money without any charge besides the primary 
charge. 

Suck. As what, good Mr. Driver ? What 1 

Dri. Why, 'tis a wooden horse, so contriv'd with 
screws and devices that he shall out-travel a drome- 
dary, carry the burden of fifteen camels, run you a 
thousand mile without drawing bit, and, which is 
more than all this, not cost you twopence a year the 
keeping. 

Suck. Ha ! ha ! he ! I'faith, i'faith ! prithee on ! 
Is there no difiiculty in the work 1 

Dri. The greatest will be to set him agoing. But 
I think I have sufficiently provided for that. I'll tell 
you how I have ordered it. Turn one pin, he shall 
trot ; another, amble ; a third, gallop ; a fourth, fly : 
and all this perform'd by German clock-work ! Don 
Quixote's Rosinante was an ass, Eeynaldo's Bayart a 
mere slug, and Clavellino the swift a very cow to him. 



THE PROJECTORS. 257 

I might mention Alexander's Bucephalus, the Cid's 
Bajeca, the Moor's Zebra, Rogero's Frontino, Astolpho's 
Hippogryphon, Orlando's Briliadoro, the Muse's Pegase, 
the Sun's horses, and Zancho's Dapple ; but they are 
not to be nam'd the same day together. One thing 
more I could tell you ; but 

Suck. Good Mr. Driver, out with it ! No buts among 
friends, I pray. 

Dri. 'Tis but shoeing him with cork, and he shall 
tread as firm and strike as true a stroke on the water 
as he does on land ; and, which is more, care for 
neither tide nor weather, and run in the wind's eye ! 
A de^dce must of necessity break the packet-boats, and 
consequently engross the whole dispatch for Ireland, 
France, and Holland. 

Suck. And do you think you could prevail with your 
master to part with this horse ? 

Dri. Yes, certainly, for his son's good. Though, as 
I told you before, he has more already than he knows 
well how to spend. 

Suck. No more of that. Prithee, let me speak with 
him. He shall have bags, daughter, devil, and all ! 

Dri. I'll wait on you again immediately. 

[Exit Driver. 

Suck. Not cost a man twopence a year the keeping ! 
So — so. 'Tis an excellent shaped horse, and must be 
good. Why may not I improve this project now, 
and make him carry as much on his back as the 
Trojan horse did in his belly ; at least, as many 
citizens and their wives at once as the great bed at 
AVare will hold at twice % 'Twas well thought on. 

Enter Driver and Ferdinand. 

Dri. This is my young master, sir ! will you please 
to be known to him "? 

Suck. A towardly young man. Save you, sir ! 

Fer. Your friend and Ferdinand. Pray, no com- 
pliments. 

Suck. An humble young man, and sparing of his 
very words. I'll try his temper. With your favour, 
R 



258 THE PROJECTORS. 

sir, I have long desir'd your acquaintance, and, having 
a further inclination to continue it, I must crave leave 
to ask you a few questions. 

Fer. The fewer the better. As near as I could, I 
would not waste either time or breath. 

Such Excellent ! Pray, sir, what do you take to be 
the greatest virtue in the world 1 

Fer. Thrift! 

Suck. Short, but pithy. Admirable ! But might 
not I be so much beholden to you as to give me your 
reason for 't 1 

Fer. It would better become me to learn from you. 
However, since you desire it, I shall tell you what first 
mov'd me to it. 

Suck. I am beholden to you. Pray, begin ! 

Fer. Then truly, sir, I find it founded upon nature. 
The sun, the moon, the stars are sparing of their light j 
and do not always shine. The earth is barren in some 
places that it may be fruitful in others. And the sea 
has its ebbs and neaps, as well as Sowings and spring 
tides. And, in a word, from the beginning 'twas ever 
so. 

Suck. Excellent again ! Let me not interrupt you. 

Fer. Nor is this all ; it has been the general prac- 
tice of all times. The golden age, to save charges, 
were clad in skins, drank water, eat acorns, and, to 
show their innocence, wip'd their noses on their 
sleeves. The philosophers, they were sparing; the 
Brahmins went naked ; Diogenes liv'd in a tub ; 
Pythagoras on carrots and cabbage ; Plato wonder'd 
a man could eat two meals a -day; and Epicurus, 
whatever we think of him, was as great a Prince with 
a toast in the dripping-pan as a fat citizen with his 
shoulder of mutton and capon. The Stoics were ab- 
stemious to a miracle ; and, if ever they exceeded, 'twas 
never at their own charge. Nor have they walked 
alone, the learned tread hard after 'am ; for either, like 
the ancient Druids, they commit nothing to writing, or 
if they do, 'tis so close and enigmatical that nobody 
can pick anything out of 't. But I burden you ? 



THE PROJECTORS. 259 

Suck By no means. Good sir, on ! 

Fe?\ To come nearer home, we all cry up charity, 
and, no doubt, do well in it ; but who makes any use 
of it 1 at least, any more than needs must 1 We bless, 
'tis true, but without a cross ; and, for good works, we 
do no more than will just serve, if yet that, for fear 
of supererogating. Pray tell me, was it for nothing, 
think you, that we found a late style of the keepers 
of the Liberty 1 or that the keeper of a park had his 
name to no purpose 1 Surely no ! The age is arriv'd 
to that height of thrift, that they find more's got by 
selling their bucks than by eating them themselves, or 
giving them their friends. 

Suck. Eight ! I have not found more thrift, — no, 
not in Spain or Italy. 

Fe7\ And now you mention Spain, give me leave 
to put off my hat to that venerable name ! The 
Spaniard ! — the frugal Spaniard ! — that shall make 
you five meals upon one hen, feast his family with 
three pilchards, and carry a pound of mutton in 
triumph on a skiver ! But I forget myself : I am sure 
now I weary you ; yet, if you have ever so much time 
to spare, read but Sir Jeffery Dropnose his discourse 
upon save-alls, or his new method of skinning of flints, 
and perhaps you may not think your time ill spent. 

Suck Ha — ha ! What was that 1 Books — books 1 

Fer. Yes, sir, a good thrifty author, and well re- 
ceived. 

Suck Uh ! Have a care ! No books, I beseech 
you. They cost money. Read men — read men ! 
Hang these liberal sciences ! this is no time for 'em. 
Study thrift — study thrift ! 'Tis strange, you, that 
are so great master in the theory, should be so much 
out in the practick ! Let me read to you. 

Fer. With all my heart, and I readily embrace it. 

Suck 'Twas well said. And first, for your person. 
Have nothing about you that may be spar'd — nay, 
though it be not worth a farthing ; for if you would 
but seriously consider how much one poor farthing, 
use upon use, in 200 years amounts to, you would not 



260 THE PROJECTORS. 

lay it out upon waste. Next, eat little, drink less, 
and sleep much, to save fire and candle-light ; and, if 
ever you are sick, be your own doctor, and never 
exceed above a halfpenny worth of senna. Then for 
your clothes : Make no new, but beg an old suit as 
for a poor friend of yours ; but fit it up for yourself, 
but short and close, lest your wife, taking example by 
you, run out as much in train. 

Fer. But suppose, sir, I kept her always in mourn- 
ing, would it not do well, think ye, to save linen and 
washing 1 

Suck Very good, and well observ'd. And, hark 
you ! never let her be too forward in making baby- 
clouts ; perhaps the child may be still-born, and then 
there's so much sav'd. And since you have nam'd 
mourning, let me advise you, never give any upon 
your will ; they'll then mourn indeed. And for your 
wife, make her no more new clothes than needs must. 
As long as the cat's skin is burnt, you shall have her 
keep home ; let it be once sleek'd, and she's presently 
a caterwauling. Then for your housekeeping : Be 
ever exact in keeping fasting-days and holiday eves ; 
for, besides that you comply with the discipline of 
the church, you save your own purse. And for your 
provision : Be sure to buy the worst of everything, 
as rotten eggs, mouldy wheat, stinking beef, and the 
like ; for, besides that it is much cheaper, your family 
will eat the less, and for that reason also, let your meat 
be either blood-raw or over-roasted, and as n«ar as you 
can dine late, that they may have no stomach to supper. 

Fe?\ Then, sir, if you'll give me leave 

Suck. Good leave have you. Proceed ! 

Fer. If your friend come to dine with you, ask him, 
by way of prevention, when he'll be so kind as to 
come and dine with you. But if he chance to sur- 
prise you, treat him not, but tell him you'll make no 
stranger of him. Either he has an appetite, or he has 
not. If he has, hunger's the best sauce ; if he has 
not, 'tis all lost. If he be your friend, he'll be con- 
tented with what you have ; if not, 'tis too much. 



THE PROJECTORS. 261 

Suck. Or rather take pattern from the prudent 
Dutch : Tell him your house is visited, and so carry 
him to the next inn, and there eat upon his purse. 
Two men's meals well sav'd ! But one thing more 
which I had quite forgot. If ever you should chance 
to keep servants, change 'em often ; they are generally 
diligent in their new clothes. And for their service, 
let every one perform two offices at least ; following 
herein the example of the same thrifty Dutch, with 
whom, generally, one and the same person supplies 
the several offices of chaplain and barber. 

Fer. How unfortunate am I, that have been so long 
a stranger to such excellent morals ! Pray, sir, oblige 
me once more. 

Suck. Ha ! ha ! he ! Shall I turn prodigal in my 
old age % 

Fer. Of counsel you may, sir ; it costs you nothing. 

Suck. Well- well-well, — since I must: — make the 
ant your pattern for laying up, and the limbeck your 
example for giving it out again, — the limbeck ! — 
peace be with him that first invented it — the limbeck, 
I say, that, be it never so full, gives back again, but 
drop by drop ; — which that you may the better do, 
let me advise you, first, to avoid law-suits, it being 
like a sheep's flying for shelter to a bramble, where 
commonly he leaves the better part of his fleece behind 
him ; — next, give no money to servants, it being in 
effect a paying for your entertainment, and as little, 
upon hopes of return. Ingratitude reigns ! Then, 
never fish with a golden hook for fear you lose it, or that 
the profit do not countervail the hazard and charge. 
But this I would have you : when you have any busi- 
ness doing, let your hand be either fumbling about 
your Little pocket, or playing with some gold. Ah ! 
it makes a man so nimble when he believes it wiU be 
his presently. But, when 'tis done, give him ne'er a 
groat ; only shake him by the hand, invite him to 
your house, and tell him your wife and he are town- 
born children. Let him say what he will when you're 
gone j you've sav'd your money, and the loser may be 



262 THE PROJECTORS. 

allow'd the liberty of speaking. Let the world call it 
sordid, or what they please. He that can do this may 
be presum'd to be content with it, and consequently 
happy ; for happiness consists in nothing more than 
in being content. Populus me sihilcct, at milii plaudo. 
A good saying, and the only piece of all the poets I 
ever understood. And, hark ye ! if thou marriest my 
daughter, it shall be the posey of her wedding-ring. 

Fer. How, sir ! Marry your daughter % Why, I 
scarce ever saw her ! 

Suck. Xo matter, no matter ; she shall be rul'd by 
me. 

Fer. Alas, sir ! charge of children will come on ; 
and, I have heard say, a -s^dfe's as chargeable as an 
old tenement; 'tmll cost you half your rent to keep it 
wind-tight and water-tight. 

Sack. Well, well, well ! thou shalt be at the charge 
of repairs during my life, and, after my death, shalt 
have all — all I have — all, all, all ! 

Dri. Troth, sir, my young master is bound to you. 
Come, sir, speak comfortably to the old gentleman. 

Fer. I can only thank jovl, sir, and tell you that I 
am wholly at your dispose. 

Dri. Why, that's well said. 

Enter Jocose aiid Mrs. Godsgood. 

Suck. Mr. Jocose I — in pudding time ! Do you re- 
member what you said to me touching your son and 
my daughter ? Truly — truly, I like the young man 
so well, that if I had twenty daughters he should have 
'em all, — all, body and bones, — and all I have after 
my death, — ay, truly, ever}" groat, unless it be four 
old Harry groats, which I have thus dispos'd in my 
will, viz. : one gToat to the poor of St. Giles's and 
St. Andrew's, Holborn, to be equally di\dded amongst 
'um ; a second to the hospitals of St. Bartholomew's, 
Christ Church, and St. Thomas, to be equally divided 
as before, provided always that, within the first' six 
months after my decease, they set up my name amongst 
tlieir benefactors : a third to charitable uses in general. 



THE PROJECTORS. 263 

to be disposed as to my executors shall seem meet ; a 
fourth towards my funeral expenses, — I think there 
Avill be no great need of a sermon. A man must do 
some good, you know. 

Joe. And may he never thrive that shall go about 
to subvert so pious an intention ! And now for my 
son : you have my consent. 

Suck. I thank you. But, d'ye hear, Mr. Driver ? — 
don't you forget the horse now. No more, but mum. 

Dri. I apprehend you, sir. Your nod's enough ! 

Suck. Come, son, — for that must be thy name now, 
— come, go home with me ! And, good Mr. Driver, 
let it be your care to get us a gentle reader, he will 
not expect so much as another. But for the clerk, 
you may let him alone ; one of us can say Amen as 
well as he. There's so much sav'd ! 

Dri. It shall be done, sir ! 

Suck. Farewell, good sir ! We'll make no wedding 
of it. Tailor's lists and blue points shall be both 
garters and favours. 

Fer. So much the better. Your servant ! 

[Exeunt Suckdry, Ferdinand, and Driver. 

Mrs. Gods. Send them good luck ! 
» Joe. And none for me, good widow 1 

Mrs. Gods. 0, by any means. Your project de- 
serves it. 

Joe. Am I unkind to you, then, that I'd have you 
take your money again 1 No ; you are rather be- 
holden to me, that have not made those advantages 
of you that, had I lov'd your money better than your 
person, I might have done. 

Mrs. Gods. In that respect I must confess I am. 
But pray tell me, how came this humour about % 

Joe. You may best answer that yourself You 
know I lov'd you, and could not be ignorant but that 
I look'd upon Sir Gudgeon Credulous as a block in 
my way, which, once remov'd, I might have the better 
hopes of kissing the mistress myself Pray, what did 
you most fancy in him — ^his person, his parts, or his 
estate ] 



264 THE PROJECTORS. 

Mrs, Gods. I was never so greedy to expect all three. 
I could for a need have excus'd the two former, to 
have been well secur'd of the last. 

Joe. A right widow ! 

Mrs. Gods. You men, alas for you ! you never mind 
those little things of estate. You are above ordi- 
nances ; you are altogether for virtue ! 

Joe. Not so far neither, good widow. A little of both 
does no hurt ; they do as well together as ill asunder. 

J^7ifer Sir Gudgeon. 

But see ! your haberdasher of small projects. 

Sir Gild. Yours, sir ! Madam, who thought to have 
found your ladyship here ? 

3Irs. Gods. Can you blame me, that am so far dipt 
in your projects, to inquire at least how things went 1 

Sir Gud. You might have trusted that to me. I 
dare warrant you a good return, and in few days. A 
little time must needs make us either Princes or 
beggars — I hope the first. 

Mrs. Gods. But suppose the latter 1 

Sir Gud. 'Tis not to be suppos'd. Let me tell the 
widow of mine, Be happy. 

3Irs. Gods. 'Tis the thing we all wish. But hoAv 
came you to be so confident of a sudden ? 

Sir Gud. Because 'tis impossible we should be other- 
■vvise. The work goes pleasantly on. And, hark ye, 
widow ! I am resolv'd to present thee a piece of scarlet, 
for thy own wearing, shall not have a lock of wool 
in 't ; and yet good substantial cloth. 

3Irs. Gods. But who makes it. Sir Gudgeon 1 

Sir Gud. AVhat matters that, so you have iti I am 
promis'd an artist shall do wonders. 

Mrs. Gods. A small philosopher, I hope 1 

Sir Gud. 'Tis not material whether he be or no. I 
love to trust every man in his way. What care I 
whether my tailor be a good musician, or my coach- 
man be able to con a ship 1 It is enough to me that 
he perform what I intend him for. For my own part 
I am so well assur'd of the thing, that I could wish I 



THE PROJECTORS. 265 

were no knight, but had staid to have been made a 
lord for altogether. And so let me say to thee once 
again, widow of mine. Be happy ! 

Joe. For that of happy, be so as long as you can. 
But pray take me along with ye : no longer widow, 
nor yours, I beseech you. 

Sir Gud. How's this ? Who dare say the contrary 1 
He were better 

Joe. Have broken your worship's pate. With this 
lady's leave, that dare I ; or if you will not believe it — 
pray, madam, lend me your busk. 

Sir Gud. Mr. Jocose ! 'tis impossible ! I never 
thought you would have serv'd me thus. 

Joe. And why not 1 Would you engross all to your- 
self? He projects, and she projects too. G-ood, Sir 
Gudgeon, there's conscience in everything ! 

Sir Gud. 'Tis well you are my friend ; but don't 
ye presume too far. 

Joe. Further than this lady I shall not ; and yet so 
far, with her good favour, I ever shall. 

Sir Gud. But you may come short home. You 
know the necessity of attending more grand affairs 

lies upon me ; but-^ 

' Joe. Does the fool prate ? [Sir Gudgeon runs out. 

Mrs. Gods. Nay, Mr. Jocose ! 

Joe. I obey ! And now, madam, I leave it to your 
own judgement how much I was out in my character ; 
and if there remains anything to your further satis- 
faction, pray let me know it. 

Mrs. Gods. I'll consider of it within. [Exeunt. 



Act v. 

Enter Mrs. Gotaih and Mrs. Squeeze severally. 

Mrs. Squ. Mrs. Gotam, well met ! — whither so fast ? 

Mrs. Got. Marry, to find out this rogue that has 

abus'd my husband ! I tell thee what. Squeeze, he 



266 THE PROJECTORS. 

and liis stafFmen liave made sucli a stink in our 
house, that all the neighbours are up and cry, A 
wedding, a wedding 1 I have been this half hour 
a shaking the bride laces off my petticoat. 

Mrs, Squ. Why, what's the matter 1 

Mrs. Got Hang him for a fool ! He cries 'tis a new 
way of making gunpowder ; but, when he's in a con- 
dition of recei-^-ijig it, I'll ring him such a peal ! I'll 
gunpowder him I 

Mrs. Squ. And mine's as bad on the t'other side. 
He's so full of business, he's even mad ! He talks of 
nothing but sonnets, madrigalds, acrostics, love letters, 
wedding posies, and I know not what ! Well, if thy 
husband's project be the beginning of love, I am con- 
fident mine's the end of 't. 

Mrs. Got. that these men must do all things by 
themselves, and never advise with their wives till it 
be too late ! But I'll make my gentleman know a 
piece of my mind before I have done with him. 

Enter GoTAiSr, sputtering. 

Mrs. Squ. Peace, peace ! here he comes ! 

Got. Uh — hum — puth ! 'Ta'd need be profitable, I 
am sure 'tis not very toothsome. 

Mrs. Got. And whither, gentleman, whither so 
fast 1 Your wife's nothing with you ! But I've 
a crow to pluck w' ye. Where's my coach and 
the eight horses you talk'd of, and the new dining- 
room to our country house 1 D'ye think to rob me 
thus? 

Got. Nay, good A^-ife — dear honey — they're all a 
coming 1 Do'st not see what pains I have been 
taking, and all to make thee a lady ! Prithee, 'tis 
all for thee ; good faith it is ! 

Mrs. Got. Marry, fough ! all what 1 

Got. AATiatever I bring to perfection. Thou must 
have patience ; 'tis but an embryo yet. 

Mrs. Got. Pray leave me ofi" your brewing, unless it 
were to better purpose. I was finely helpt up when 
I married you, and refus'd more likely men every 



I 



THE PROJECTORS. 267 

way, and such as would have maintain'd me like a 
woman. But the devil ow'd me a good turn ! 

Got. Nay, dear wife, thou art always in this key. 
AYhat encouragement can it be to a man when his 
wife believes nothing but what she should not % 

Mrs. Got. Say ! speak ! what should I believe, or 
what should I not believe ? you'll teach me, will you 1 

Got. No, good wife ; but we may hear one another 
though. 

Mrs. Got. I've heard too much. Thou lets every one 
lead thee by the nose, and make thee an ass and a 
beast. And I could find it in my heart to make thee 
too — (look better to your business). Come, come ! 
where be the keys of the chest 1 give them me ! 

Got. What to do ^ 

Mrs. Got. What to do with my own ? Why, was it 
not all mine 1 and dost thou grudge me my own I 
Go, go ! try thy experiments with what thou broughtst 
thyself, unless they were better or more likely. 

Enter Mr. Driver. 

Got. Mr. Driver ! — Never in better season. 

Dri. Why, how now, Mrs. Gotam ] — sitting in judge- 
ment upon your husband '? 

Mrs. Got. If I do, 'tis my own husband, and one 
that, if you please, sir, has been fool'd enough by you. 

Got. Nay, wife, you won't spoil all? The gentle- 
man is a civil gentleman, and an excellent person in 
his way. 

Mrs. Got. I'll excellent ye both ! What fine project 
is this you have put my husband upon ? Had your 
master no one to fool but his own flesh and blood % 

Dri. What does your wife mean, Mr. Gotam % 

Got. Alas, sir, if you liv'd at our house you'd never 
ask that question. 'Tis her ordinary exercise to keep 
herself in breath. 

Mrs. Got. I'll breath you ! Must you abuse me too % 
Eemember this, gentleman 1 

Dri. But may not I know whence all this heat % 

Mrs. Got. You know but too well; and as you have 



268 THE PROJECTORS. 

brought him on, pray bring him off, or I'll make the 
house too hot for you and your master too. I'll 
powder you ! 

Dri And why ? — how goes it forward ? 

Got. In plain troth, sir, between ourselves, I half 
doubt the woman's mad. She has thrown all the 
tubs about house, and rais'd the neighbours about our 
ears ! 

Dri. And you think you've done a wise action now, 
to discover in one minute what some men might have 
studied their whole lives for, but never found % 

Mrs. Got. Indeed, sir ! And do you believe there 
was anything in 't ? 

Dri. It matters not whether there were or no ; 
your own folly will best teach you. — [He tears a paper.] 
— There, there's the counterpart of your articles, and 
to let you see how much I scorn to take advantage of 
you, I discharge you of all monies due by virtue of 
'um. 

Got. You've done well, wife! you've made a fair 
hand on 't ! 

Mrs. Got. Nay, pray, sir ! 

Enter Squeeze, singing. 
Dri. Not a word more ! I ha' done with 't. 
Squ. And wilt thou gang with me, my Jo 1 
And wilt thou gang with me 1 
Now for thy daddy's benison, 
I prithee now gang with me. 
Dri. Ay, here's your diligent man ; he has traverst 
Scotland already. Now, Mr. Squeeze, how goes all 
affairs 1 

Squ. Why, as a man may say, on wheels. I had 
no sooner set up my bills, and hung out a large label, 
with this inscription in capital letters — 

Young men advance, and maidens eke draw near, 
Here dwells Love's epistoliographer ! 

I say, I had no sooner hung it out, than my house was 
too little to hold the company ! 0' my conscience, I 
think Wapping, Eatcliff, and East Smith-eld were 



THE PROJECTORS. 269 

never so drain'd since the last great show. I'll under- 
take, 'twould have made two gingerbread women for 
ever. 

Dri. See here, Mr. Gotam, see what industry can 
do ! And yet I valu'd your device at least fifty per 
cent, more than this. 

Got. I'm an unlucky fellow ! This a man gets by 
making his wife acquainted with his business. 

Mrs. Got. Nay, prithee sweetheart, let's home again ! 
I'll try to recover all. 

Got. Impossible ! or, if it weren't, the neighbours 
have smok'd it. 0, Mr. Squeeze ! what luck you 
have ! 

Squ. My faith, I do pretty well, and at small ex- 
pense. I'll be sworn the Packet of Letters, FamiUar 
Epistles, Academy of Compliments, and two or three of 
the new poets, is the greatest charge I have been at; 
and I am confident I shall, in a short time, be able to 
bring it into a lesser compass, by printing some blank 
cojjies of the several kinds that shall indifi'erently 
serve to every occasion. 

Dri. A pretty device and well found out. 

Squ. But the main thing I built on troubles me. 
You remember the fifth term ? 

Dri. And what of that 1 

Squ. I have ofi'er'd it to all the Inns of Court, 
Chancery, and Commons, and none bids me anything 
for 't : for they that have anything to do cry four is 
enough, and they that have not, though they shrug 
their shoulders and look smilingly on 't, yet, whether 
it be that t'others keep 'um so low, or that they fear 
they'd in a short time engross this too, though they 
seem to wish well to 't, yet they bid me not a farthing. 

Dri No matter ; you'll find enough in this. You 
must not be too covetous. 

Mrs. Got. But, good Mr. Driver, ^vill you assist us 
at least in the soap business 1 

Dri. They go together : make one, and t'other 
follows. But I'll meddle no more in't; I am too 
full elseway. 



270 THE PROJECTORS. 

Got Pray consider of 't, and we'll take a turn or 
two in the garden the while ; perhaps I may light 
upon some new proposals. Mr. Squeeze, shall I beg 
your company ? 

Squ. With all my heart ! [Exeunt all hut Driver. 

Dri. Well, I am gone so far, but how to get clear 
again, there's the question. I brought it on, and I 
hope my master has by this time thought of some 
device or other to bring it off. 

Enter Sir Gudgeon. 

Sir Gudgeon Credulous ! your servant. 

Sir Gud. Oh, Mr. Driver ! how have you serv'd me ? 
I have been trying your experiment at least forty ways, 
and I'm sure my glass is as good as any in Christen- 
dom ; but the devil of a thread can I make hold, 'twas 
as rotten as dirt. An old black, died out of a rotten 
scarlet, and that too burnt in the dye, is iron to it. 

Dri. Sure, sir, your mistaken. 

Sir Gud. No, no, no ! 'tis but too true. 

Dri. Or did not take the right way. 

Sir Gud. Oh no ! I was exact to the thousandth part 
of a hair. 

Dri. Or perhaps overdid your work, and so calcin'd 
'um. O' my conscience, if the truth was known, this 
was it. And yet 'tis strange, so grave a philosopher, 
that has written so profoundly of cobwebs and perry, 
should be so much out in his first rudiments ! 

Sir Gud. I know not, but 'tis as I tell you. 

Dri. You see what 'tis when men cannot be con- 
tented to do, but they must overdo. 'Tis well I did 
not trust you with the business of malleable glass, sup- 
pressing mountebanks, and enlarging the city charter. 
If I had, 't 'ad been all one. 

Sir Gud. How's that, good Mr. Driver 1 Pray let's 
hear 'um ; they may make amends for t'other. 

Dri. No ! no more. I'll never trust a man again 
that can't go by himself. One of your years and 
intellectuals, and not read without a fescue ! '''" 

* See Davenant's Works, vol. ii. p. 104. 



THE PROJECTORS. 271 

Sir Gud. Come, come, let's try to recover 't again. 

Dri. Never, never ! I know, though I han't seen 
your work, you have spoil' d the design ; for things of 
this nature are so nice and kickish, the least error 
renders them irretrievable. A man had better fix 
mercury in a blowing mill than offer to think on 't. 

Sir Gud. What remedy then 1 

Enter Jocose leading Mrs. Godsgood. 
Sir Gudgeon walks. 

Dri. Patience, Sir Gudgeon, patience ! 

Sir Gud. Hugh ! patience ! And had I more, here's 
that would exercise it all. 

Joe. And now no longer widow, be as merry as a 
good husband can make thee. 

Mrs. Gods. I have but your own word for 't, and 
yet hope I shall have no cause to repent the action. 

Joe. 'Twas well said ! and I'll promise thee, as near 
as I can, I'll give thee none. But see. Sir Gudgeon 
Credulous ! He's come to give thee joy. 

Sir Gud. Joy ! choke 'um ! [Aside. 

Mrs. Gods. Save you, Sir Gudgeon ! you've been a 
great stranger. I see I might have even done what I 
Would for all you y' are a kind suitor ! 

Sir Gud. She jeers me too ! Is it not enough to 
have injur'd me, but you must tell me so 1 

Mrs. Gods. I injur'd you ! forbid it. Pray how goes 
on our common business % 



Sir Gud. All evaporated ! Gone — gone — quite lost ! 

Mrs. Gods. Why, as I understand you, there was to 
be neither fire nor smoke in 't. 

Sir Gud. I know not. The devil was in 't ! and my 
new drape — quite defunct. 

Mrs. Gods. And do you think it was kindly done to 
engage me in such a business ? 

Sir Gud. 'Twas no more than what I did myself. 
But I see, now it is too late, that I am merely tricked 
out of my money, my widow, and all. But somebody 
shall dearly rue it. 

Joe. That's not I, Sir Gudgeon, is it ? 



272 THE PROJECTORS. 

Sir Ghid. No matter whether it be or no. There are 
other bodies iii the world besides yourself. 

Joe. Yes, that there are. There are bodies politic, as 
London and Westminster ; and bodies simple, as Sir 
Gudgeon and his participants. 

Sir Griid, D'ye hear this, Mr. Driver 1 I shall 
order you, i'faith, if there be any law between the 
mount in Cornwall and Berwick stairs.* 

Dri. However, sir, I am to thank you that you 
have been pleas'd to lend me some money to defend 
the suit. 

Sir Gud. Well, look to 't ! I say no more. 

[He offers to go out, Jocose stops him. 

Joe. No departing in wrath, good Sir Gudgeon ! 
One does not know what you may do to yourself; 
you had better stay a while and take a little advice 
with you. Go, go down into the country, and awe 
your poor neighbours with my lord's nod, or his 
whisper in your ear at parting. Study longitude and 
the philosopher's stone, the north-west passage and 
the square of a circle. So brave a Sir Poll trouble 
himself with trifles 1 By no means — no, no ! Embark 
for the Indies in a cock-boat, or to France on a mill- 
stone ; plant a colony in Terra Incognita, or settle an 
intelligence with the Emperor of Utopia. These were 
fit for Sir Gudgeon ! 

lice tihl sunt artes / 

Sir Gud. Well, sir, well ! 'tis your time now. 

Joe. Or, if you love the smoke o' the town better, 
enter yourself a virtuoso, and sit in judgement on every 
man but yourself Never open your mouth with less 
than a cabal, and yet speak little, for fear you be 
understood. However, let your sententious tooth- 
pick speak for you, that you could say more if you 
durst trust the company, or were not under an oath 

* I.e. between Land's-end and the most northern point in 
England — her Majesty's "good town of Berwick-upon-Tweed."' 
"Berwick stairs" may be meant for "Berwick walls," or, per- 
haps, for the barbican of the old ruined castle of Berwick, which, 
resembling stairs, is still standing (1873), and runs down to the 
margin of the Tweed. 



THE PROJECTORS. 273 

of secrecy. Sir Gudgeon beat his brains about ordi- 
nary matters 1 Fie, fie ! 

Enter Suckdry, hugging himself. 

Sir Gud. You do well, sir. 

Suck. Not cost a man twopence a-year the keeping ? 
— rare ! — Mr. Driver — 

Joe. See ! here's another of your brethren. Prithee, 
Driver, entertain him while I look to the knight. 

Sir Gud. So, keep me a prisoner too"? you fear 
nothing. 

Suck. "Well met, well met. Sir Gudgeon ! I sent 
you home the boy and the girl. — Ha? \To Jocose. 

Joe. They are within. 

Suck. But hark, Mr. Driver ! A word. Ha' ye 
fitted out the horse yet ? 

Dri. And over-fitted too. What's worse than ill 
luck ? Certain we are bewitch'd ! 

Suck. As how — as how — as how, Mr. Driver ? No 
hurt, I hope, good Mr, Driver 1 

Dri. Yes, faith, sir ! but it could not be helpt. 

Suek. What 1 what ? what 1 what % what, I pray ? 

Dri. Why faith, as he was coming full speed down 
Highgate Hill, he tript upon a stone, fell, and broke 
his leg short ofi" ! 

Suck. Uh ! undone for ever ! No good to be done 
with him now ? Speak ! ha ? 

Dri. Why, truly, he may be made serve again — to 
the Court of Guard, or so-^-but, I fear me, not without 
some charge. 

Suck. Uh ! charge ! What a fool was I to be so 
forward in this match, till I had seen what would 
come of t'other ! 

Dri. How, sir ! is my young master so cheap with 
you already % 

Enter Ferdinand leading Nancy, loth in rich 
apparel. 

Suck. Why, that's some comfort yet. He'll save it up 
again by Httle. Oh, Driver ! what's this I see ? Surely 
s 



274 THE PROJECTORS. 

this house is the land of visions. My daughter in 
beaten satin ! Hold me ! I faint — I faint ! Uh ! 

Fer. Come, my dear ! And now no more of your 
No pray I thank ye's. 'Twas well carried. 

Nan. AATiile I was at my father's, blame me not if 
I obeyed him; and, now his election has made me 
yours, I hope I shall not so mistake the person as to 
pay you less. 

Fer. That's a pretty rogue ! 

Nan. my father ! Good sir, help ! 

Fer. Certain he never gat her ; nay, were she not 
my wife, I'd swear it ! What's the matter % Stand off 
and give him air ! 

Suck. Uh — hu ! my son and all ! — ^and all to be 
daub'd ! Is this the thrifty gentleman ? Uh ! how 
apt is even the best ground to run into weeds ! Uh 
— uh! 

Fer. Come, pray, sir, do not disquiet yourself, or 
judge me by my outside j 'tis the way to be mistaken 
a second time. 

Suck. Is this founded upon nature ? — this the habit 
of the ancient philosophers 1 It had not been amiss, 
if, while they pretended to instruct others, they had 
yet taught themselves. 

Fer. Let me supply that defect, if yet you doubt it. 

Such This the keeping your wife in mourning, to 
save linen and washing % This the burnt cat's skin we 
talk'd of 1 — defend her from what follows ! 

Fer. Pray, sir, hear me ! and though I did a while 
l)ut a force upon my nature to humour you, be not 
now disturb'd that I am yet at last come to myself 
again. 

Such. Uh — uh ! he believes these things are death 
to me, and will murder me, though it be but to scatter 
that little which with so much pains I have rak'd 
together ! 

Fer. Do not misconceive me; 'tis my desire you may 
live and enjoy what you have. The earth, though she 
conveys the water through her veins, is allow'd yet to 
suck in as much as may refresh herself 



THE PROJECTORS. 275 

Suck. I was right : lie is resolv'd to break my heart. 

Fer. Pray, sir, hear me ! and set not up your rest on 
that which, simply considered, is not that blessing the 
world takes it for. No ; wealth not enjoy'd is but a 
dead heap of muck, and the same unactive lump in 
the chest it was in the mine. Were you master of all 
the most mighty could wish; did you not only possess 
riches, but tread on them ; should fortune cover you 
with gold, and were your wealth as boundless as your 
eye ; yet, had you not a heart to use % you would but 
from thence learn to covet more, and those false 
desires having no Kmit would become as infinite as 
error. 

Suck Uh — ^uh ! no mercy ! 

Fer. Let me prevail, good sir. You cannot but hear 
a man that pleads against his own interest. You 
have enough ; why should ye deny yourself at least 
a moderate use of it ? Why should ye be fearful to 
approach it, and yet be jealous of others — ^like the 
sensitive plant, shrink at the touch, and cramp into 
a convulsion? Why should ye use your wealth, as 
anglers their little fish, only to bait for more ? Or 
why degrade yourself from that sphere wherein nature 
set ye by a voluntary sale of yourself to slavery ? In 
a word, why should you possess that with pain which 
others behold with envy 1 — such as, in itself, rather 
threatens than profits, and, thus obtain'd, becomes not 
the end, but change of misery. Come, pray, sir ? 

Suck How shall I believe him 1 He said as much 
on t'other side erewhile. Give me leave ! 

[SucKDRY offers to go out, Jocose stops him. 

Joe. I'll be his security. Pray, stay a little ! all will 
be well. 

Fnter Squeeze, Gotam, and their Wives. 

Oh, gentlemen, you're welcome ! Now, Sir Gudgeon, 
what think you of reconciling all interests 1 

Sir Gud. You're in your own house, you may do 
what you list. 

Joe. No more of that, I pray. I must have all 



276 THE PROJECTORS. 

friends, though to my own loss. And therefore, to 
be short, let me tell you, Sir Gudgeon, that, finding 
you so incHn'd to projects, I thought you might 
be instrumental to mine, and I have compassed 
'um. This — [he points to the Widow and Nancy] — 
for myself, and that for my son : for anything beyond 
that, I am wholly a stranger to 't. For I ever look'd 
upon projectors like the dogs in the fable, that burst 
themselves by endeavouring to drink up the pond, 
that they might the easier come at the carcase that 
floated on the middle of 't. 

Mrs. Got. And do you think to carry 't off thus 1 
Dost look Hke a sheep-biter, and seest thyself laugh'd 
at ? [To her Husband. 

Joe. Pray, gentlewoman, — ^with your good patience 
a little, — the use may chance to be more comfortable 
than the doctrine. For once I'll be the author of an 
ill court precedent; you shaU all have your money 
again. 

Sir Chid. Say you so, Mr. Jocose 1 Now, send us 
more such courtiers ! Come, gentlemen, we will be 
friends before his mind alter ; 'tis ten to one but he 
had been too hard for us. 

Got. Indeed might he have been. 

Suck And so he has been for me. 

Squ. I shall lose nothing by 't. 

Joe. What say ye, gentlemen 1 d'ye like my motion ? 

Sir Gud. Ay, ay ! Mr. Suckdry shall be ruled by me. 

Suck. That's more than you know, though. 

Omnes. Come ! pray, sir ! 

Sir Gud. 'T'as taught us wit. 

Joe. And I hope you'll consider your tutor Driver. 

Sir Gud. Well, well, leave him to me ! 

Joe. And so you're pleas'd 1 — ^and you, and you, and 
you '? And I hope [^f^y answer several. 

The same of you,* since now at last you find. 

Who ploughs the clouds shall only reap the wind. 

[Exeunt Omnes. 

* The pit. 



EPILOGUE. 

Plays are but morals, and the ancients, 
That first wrapt truth in tales, had their intents. 
Full well they knew nothing discover'd vice 
Like its own picture : so we hope of this. 
How ill Suckdry appears ! How oddly those 
That grasp at shadows, and the substance lose I 
Take you the moral right, and say : The stage 
Then does its work when it reforms the age. 



i 



BELPHEGOR- 

OR, 

THE MAEEIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 



Belphegor: or. The Marriage of tlie Devil; A Tragi-Comedy. 
Lately acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset-Garden. By Mr. 
Wilson. — " Prodesse potest aut delectare." — Licensed, October 
13, 1690. London, Printed by J. L.for Luke Meredith, at the 
Angel, in Amen-Corner, 1691. 



It is probable tbat the fiction of Belphegor may be traced to 
some monastic legend or ancient Fabliaux, from wliicli tbe two 
tales on the subject, ascribed to Machiavel and Straparola, bave 
been constructed. Indeed tbis is asserted in a note to tbe tale 
in the French translation of the latter, to -which we shaU after- 
wards have occasion to refer. The intention of both writers was 
to show that the sharp sting of a woman's tongue is quite suf- 
ficient to subdue the devil, whenever it is her pleasure to give 
his Satanic Majesty the full benefit of it. 

In the olden time, the saints usually came off victorious in 
their battles with Belzebub. St. Dunstan once settled matters 
very speedily with a devil, who had slipped into Ms cell while 
he was piously engaged in completing a chalice, and, peeping 
incautiously over Dunstan's shoulder, he exposed his nose to 
the eyes of the saint, who, seeing his advantage, turned round, 
suddenly seized it with the red-hot tongs he was using for the 
sacred utensil, and held it so tight, that the fiend roared so 
loud and so long that the whole adjacent country was in a 
state of alarm for hours. Hone, in his useful and entertain- 
ing Every-Day Booh, has given a woodcut of this interesting 
occurrence, copied from an original engraving, under which were 
these verses — 

"St. Dunstan, as the story goes. 
Once pull'd the devil by the nose 
With red-hot tongs, wMch made him roar. 
That he was heard three miles and more." 

After reposing on his laurels for many centuries, St. Dun- 
stan was raised from his grave by the unknown author of Grim, 
the Collier of Croydon, a drama of the latter days of Elizabeth, 
or commencement of the reign of James i.* 

St. Francis was a still more potent adversary of Satan. His 
wonderful career will be found in the Alcoran des Cord4liers,'\ 
a work "tant en Latin, qu'en Francois," taken from the great 
book Des Gonformitez, jadis compost par frere Barthelemi 
de Pise, Cordelier en son Vivant, and illustrated by Picart. 
Two of the engravings represent the conquest obtained by the 

* His presence was deemed necessary to watch the proceedings of the 
court of Satan, which had deputed Belphegor to the earth to ascertain 
whether the scandals circulated in Pandemonium relative to the fair sex 
were well founded. 

t Amsterdam, 1734. Two volumes 12mo. There was a copy of this very 
rare and curious work in the BibUotfieca S*anUiana, 1813, No. 658. 



282 BELPHEGOR. 

saint over the devil and his imps. The first is thus described : 
"S. Francois et son compagnon trouverent une bourse, que le 
Diable avoit mis la pour le tenter ; mais sitot que le compagnon 
eut touche a la bourse le Diable en sortir et tout disparut," a 
striking instance of the power of the saint, when his mere per- 
sonal presence protected his companion from the "glamour " of 
the evil one. 

The second engraving represents the saint, who, after having, 
in the month of January, vanquished the devil in a thicket 
(buisson), gathered twelve red and the same number of white 
roses, and, proceeding to carry them to the church, found the 
ground covered with silk tapestry. He had an angel on each 
side. In the back part of the print, Francis is placed in the 
middle of the buisson, whilst the devil in despair reluctantly 
takes his departure ; two heavenly beings in the sky view 
everything with infinite satisfaction. 

St. Francis was too exalted in mind to indulge, even with 
Belzebub, in vituperative discussion. Shunning female society, 
and resisting the temptations of beauty, he was ignorant of the 
wondrous power of a female tongue, and would never have 
credited the flight of Belphegor by its means. 

The temptations of St. Anthony are well known. For twenty 
long years he was persecuted daily. Armed with his crucifix, 
he vanquished the arch-fiend, whose effigies, copied from the 
original painting by Salvator Kosa,* of itself was sufiicient to 
strike terror into the bosom of the boldest combatant. The 
saint, of course, was triumphant, and so completely established 
his superiority, that the fiends, upon hearing the voice of 
Anthony, fled as fast as Belphegor did when he thought he 
was about to be afilicted by the -voice and presence of his wife 
Imperia, as Wilson calls her. 

La Fontaine has introduced Belphegor into his collection of 
tales and novels. According to his biographer, Monsieur Auger, 
"Sa femme, nommee Marie Hericart, fiUe d'un lieutenant au 
Balliage royal de la Ferte-Milon, ne manquoit ni de beaute ni 
d'esprit ; mais elle etoit d'une humeur exigeante et fierce, et Ton 
croit generalement qu'eUe est original de Madame Honesta dans 
le conte de Belphegor. Ce qu'il y a de certain, c'est que La Fon- 
taine se conduisit avec sa femme a-peu-pres comme Belphegor 
avec la sienne, c'est-k-dire, s'eloigna d'elle le plus souvent, et 
pour le plus de temps qu'il lui fut possible. " + It is very pro- 
bable that this conjecture is correct. 

The Contes et Nouvelles were printed some years before the 
appearance of Wilson's drama on the same subject in 1690. La 
Fontaine died upon the 13th March 1695, in Paris, at the age 
of sixty-four, Wilson having survived him. Fontaine ascribed 

* Hone's Every-Day Boole, p. 114. 

t Vie de La Fontaine. CEuvres completes de La Fontaine^ a Paris, 1814, 
Svo. Tom. I. f. xi. Printed by Crapelet. 



BELPHEGOR. 283 

the tale to Machiavel, whereas "Wilson, who prefixes an abridg- 
ment of the fiction, is uncertain whether the Florentine or 
Straparola was the writer. 

In the translation by *' Pierre de Larivey, Champenois," into 
French, of the Tredici Piacevoli Notti del S. Gio. Francisco 
Straparola da Caravaggio, The Marriage of the Devil is the 
fourth tale of the second night, and in several respects resembles 
the story ascribed to Machiavel. 

Larivey, in the following note upon the tale of Straparola, 
says : " C'est, comme tout le monde S9ait, le Belphegor de Ma- 
chiavel. Le Doni, pourtant, — fuillet 89 de sa seconda Libraria 
de I'edition du Marcolini en 12mo, a Venise 1551,— dit que cette 
nouvelle, apres avoir eu cours sous le nom de Machiavel, a ete 
depuis imprimee parmi celle du Brevio a Florence, ensuite dequoi 
il la raporte tout au long, telle que I'auteur, dit-il, I'avoit ori- 
ginairement ecrite. Ce qui a toute la mine d'etre une suposition 
du Doni. Un chanoine de Saint Martin de Tours m'a dit que 
dans un vieux manuscrit Latin de la bibliotheque de cette eglise, 
I'istoire du mariage du Diable se trouvoit redigee en cinq ou six 
lignes."* 

At what time the version of Belphegor ascribed to Machiavel 
was first printed has not been ascertained, but the tale by 
Straparola will be found in the edition of his novels printed at 
Venice 1578, page 57. Of this work there was a still earlier 
edition — San Luca, 1557 — in the sale catalogue of the valuable 
library of Colonel Stanley, + which was sold by auction in 1813, 
realising the sum of £8215, lis. 6d. 

"With the exception of the History of Florence, Machiavel's 
works were translated into English from the Italian, — London, 
1663, 12mo, — by Edward Dacres, and dedicated by him to James, 
Duke of Lenox, Earl of March, etc., Lord Great Chamberlain 
and Admiral of Scotland. In this translation the story of Bel- 
phegor is not found, although it contains all the other works 
then known to be his. In the folio edition, said to be the third, 
printed London, 1720, but which was "licensed February 2, 
1674," Belphegor is the last article but one, and is followed by 
what is caUed "Nicholas Machiavel's letter in vindication of 
himself and writings. " This is believed to be a forgery. It was 
translated by the celebrated Marquis of "Wharton, the author, as 
is generally believed, of Lillihurlero. Bishop "Warburton says, 
that having had access to the Wharton papers, he found the 
first proof of the letter corrected by the future Marquis. This 
was the edition of 1680. 

The resemblance of Machiavel's Belphegor to Grim, the 
Gobbler of Croydon, is so very marked, that some notice of 
the drama may not be unacceptable. The first scene is in the 
"Devil's Dormitory," where St. Dunstan enters, properly armed 

* Tom. I. f. 9. Amsterdam, 1725. 
t Sold for £4. 



284 BELPHEGOR. 

with his beads, book, and crozier, and informs his auditors, 
that after the lapse of many hundred years, he had been brought 
back by Envy to 

"Show myself again upon the earth ; " 

he then gives an account of himself, his high position, his 
services under seven great kings, whose reigns he epitomizes, 
when "on a sudden," the Holy Man, in the middle of his 
autobiography, is overcome with sleep, and "layeth him down." 
Whereupon "lightning and thunder " commence. The curtain 
is drawn "on a sudden ;" and Pluto, Minos, ^acus, and llha- 
damanthus are discovered, " set in counsel" to judge the case of 
Malbecco's ghost, which stands before them guarded by furies. 
The unhappy spirit had committed suicide by throwing himself 
headlong from a rock, driven by his wife to the rash act. He 
furnishes the judges with a catalogue of his sufferings, assuring 
them at same time that they were just 

" What the world is plagued with every day." * 

Pluto, in a state of astonishment, exclaims : 

" Can it be possible, you lords of hell, 
Malbecco's tale of women can be true ? 
Is marriage now become so great a curse, 
That whilome was the comfort of the world ? " 

Minos and ^acus both express opinions confirmatory of Mal- 
becco's statement, when Rhadamanthus counsels that 

"Your Grace should send some one into the world. 
That might make proof, if it be true or no." 

To this proposition Pluto at once agrees, and it is resolved that 
Belphegor should be sent to visit the earth in human form, in 
order to test the truth of Malbecco's accusation. Disguised as 
Castiliano, an opulent merchant, he visits the earth, and from 
his personal experiences reports that there had been no ex- 
aggeration in the ghost's justification ; he was but too happy to 
escape from earth and resume his comfortable position as one of 
the cabinet council of Pluto. Malbecco having thus established 
the truth of his charge, is sent back to plague the earth as 
the demon Jealousy. Pluto having dismissed his visitor to the 
realms above, thus concludes the play : 

"And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd, 
The furies shall their tortures cast away. 
And all hell o'er, we'll make it holy-day." 

The decision meets with general approbation, and the play 
concludes, as it began, with thunder and lightning. 

The story of Malbecco will be found in the Fairy Que&a,^ 

* Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. x. Lond. 1827, p. 191. 

f Spencer's Works by Todd. London, 1805, 8vo, vol. v. page 5. 



BELPHEGOR. 285 

but greatly altered by the author of the drama. The name, 
says the learned editor, "is derived from male, and hacco, a 
cuckold or wittol ; hecco signifies likewise a buck-goat." 

The scene of the drama having been laid in England, before 
the Conquest, the author may perhaps have founded it on some 
legend or tradition of that country, as otherwise it is difficult to 
understand why St. Dunstan was introduced, or had anything 
to do with the experiment of Pluto and his council to ascertain, 
through the instrumentality of Belphegor, if ladies on earth, 
were as bad as they were understood to be in Pandemonium. 
The Continent would, for such an investigation, have been 
more suitable than the island of Great Britain. It induces a 
suspicion that the author may have been indebted for this part 
of his plot to other sources than those afforded by Machiavel 
and Straparola. St. Dunstan's assertion that he had been dead 
some hundred years was an unnecessary fiction, as he was a 
prominent character during the Saxon rule, and died in the 
year 988, not very long before the battle of Hastings. * 

Geneste says that Belphegor was brought out at Dorset 
Garden, and was licensed October 13, 1690. He remarks that 
the plot is professedly taken from a novel by Machiavel ; but, 
as before observed, Wilson himself tells his readers that he is 
uncertain whether the story was by Machiavel or Straparola. 
Wilson, he continues, "has added an underplot which is rather 
dull ; the comic scenes are good. The plot being so much out 
of the common road, some explanation of it should have been 
made iu the prologue ; it was perhaps for want of this that the 
play was unsuccessful." It appears from the prologue that 
Belphegor was the next new play after the Prophetess. 

The Prophetess can hardly be called a new play, as it was 
only an alteration of Fletcher by Betterton, after the manner of 
an opera. There was one singularity about it — the prologue was 
after the first day suppressed, probably in consequence of two 
ofiensive lines by Dryden alluding to the machinery used, and 
the quantity of singing — 

" Never content with what you had before, 
But true to change, and Englishmen aU o'er." 

No authority has been given as to the want of success of 
Belphegor, and the conjecture that it was occasioned by the 
want of an introductory explanation can hardly be accepted 
as a sufficient reason, as Fontaine's tale, which had been 
recently published, and with which the reading public must 
have been familiar, superseded any requirement of the kind. 

The tragi-comedy of Wilson has great merit, and is worthy of 

a high place amongst the dramas of the times in which it was 

written. It is original and full of interest, and the characters 

are well drawn, especially the "Demon Merchant" and his 

* 10th October 1066. 



286 BELPHEGOR. 

grasping wife, the fear of whose tongue had the immediate effect 
of compelling his flight from the body of the Princess he had 
possessed, and forced his return to the fiery regions from which 
he had emanated. In the hands of a skHful dramatic writer, 
we are inclined to think that "Wilson's Belphegor, with con- 
siderable purification of the dialogue, and a judicious altera- 
tion of some of the scenes, might, in the present time, be 
successfully put on the stage, and received with that applause 
which Geneste says -vvras denied to it on its original performance 
in 1690. 

Straporola's tale, as translated from the original Italian by 
Pierre de Larivey into French, will be found in the Appendix, 
as well as that by Machiavel, from the English edition of his 
works in folio, London, 1720. 



THE AUTHOR TO THE READER. 

Matchiavel — whether the original were his own or 
Straporola's, for both lived near the same time, and 
both played with the same story — gave me the Argu- 
ment of the ensuing play, the substance of which is 
briefly thus : — 

The Argument. 

It having been observed in hell that the souls of 
such as came thither generally complained that their 
wives sent them, it was at last resolved that some one 
of themselves, as by lot it fell, should, for the better 
discovery of the truth thereof, repair to the earth, 
take upon him some human figure, and, for his better 
encouragement, carry with him a round sum of money 
in his pocket ; subjected, nevertheless, to all the con- 
ditions of humanity, and, in the first place, to marry 
a "wife, and live with her ten years, if possible, and 
after that to return, and make them a true account 
upon his own experience. 

This lot fell to Belphegor, their old general, who, 
assuming a brisk young figure, settles in Florence, 
under the name of Roderigo, and quality of a mer- 
chant newly come from the Indies, and marries a 
lady of greater blood than fortune, whom he so loves 
in earnest, that she finds it, and seeks all occasions of 
squandering his estate, which yet he as readily com- 
plies with, because it pleases his wife. However, the 
trade of a merchant goes forward, and his adven- 
tures at sea fall nothing short of her extravagance at 
home. 

This, and other accidents, make him incur debts ; 
and, as other men in like cases, he takes up money 
to support his credit, till at last, his ships at sea being 



288 BELPHEGOR. 

all lost, what -with his creditors pressing him on the 
one hand, and his wife's uneasiness on the other, he 
fairly breaks. 

And now, being subjected to all the conditions of 
humanity like those of other men, he flies, and takes 
sanctuary with one Mattheo, a neighbouring vineyard- 
keeper, tells him his condition, and that if he'll shelter 
him from the bailiffs that are in close pursuit of him 
he'll make him a man for ever. In short, Mattheo 
does it ; and, expecting the performance of his pro- 
mise, Roderigo tells him that he is not what he 
appears to be, — a man, — but a very devil, and gives 
him some pregnant instances of it. However, to show 
him what a gentleman of a devil he had met in him, 
he further tells him that as soon as he parted from 
him he would instantly possess such a great lady, 
and that nothing should remove him till he came, and 
therefore bade him be assured, and make his terms, 
and so leaves him. 

Nor was he worse than his word, but immediately 
possessed the said lady, and suffered himself to be 
dislodged from her by Mattheo ; as also of a second, 
— with this caution, nevertheless, that if he put him 
to it a third time, he should find him his mortal 
enemy. 

On this, Belphegor makes a trip into France, and 
possesses that King's daughter, but not sooner than 
the report of the two former ladies had reached that 
Court. Whereupon the King sends several messages, 
with large promises of reward, to Mattheo, to come 
and dispossess his daughter, which he as often shifts ; 
till at last, the King, having gotten him into his hands, 
tells him that unless he dispossess her he will certainly 
hang him. To be short, Mattheo puts on a bold face, 
and accosts Belphegor; but, finding all to no purpose, 
throws himself upon the King's mercy in favourably 
accepting his endeavours, and demands a large stage, 
with all sorts of music and pomp imaginable, and 
that the lady be brought upon it ; to be sure, withal, 
that when he threw up his cap that they all strike up 



BELPHEGOR. 289 

together with a general shout. And this, said he, with 
some other ingredients he had, would, he doubted not, 
but deliver the lady. 

In fine, all things being accordingly prepared and 
ready, the lady is brought upon the stage, and from 
one thing to another, they at last quarrel, and Mattheo 
throws up his cap, which is seconded with a full shout ; 
at which the possessed lady starting, and demanding 
the meaning of all that noise, Mattheo tells the devil 
in her his wife had found him out, and was just coming 
up-stairs, on which the lady gives a spring at liim, and 
drops, and Belphegor leaves her. 

Thus far Matchiavel, whom I have chiefly followed ; 
sa^dng that, where he runs his fable from one country 
to another, I found myself necessitated, for preserving 
the unity of time and place as much as it would bear, 
to fix the scene in some one place, and accordingly 
changed it from Florence, etc., to Genoa; and this 
the rather, partly in that the women in Genoa have 
a greater liberty than in other parts of Italy, and 
l^artly that the dukedom of Genoa, being elective 
from two years to two years, I might make way for 
a cross walk of virtue, and thereby divert the tedious- 
ness of a single walk — a path, I must confess, not so 
generally trodden, yet even in that the less subject to 
sloughs or dust. 

To this purpose, I fancy Imperia, the wife of Bel- 
phegor, had a sister Portia, of as high virtue as herself 
was void of it, married to Montalto, a noble Genoese, 
who had sunk his fortune in serving the Republic, 
which yet, unknown to him, had been generously 
restored by another nobleman, his friend ; and thence 
endeavour some short characters of friendship and 
gratitude, ^ — of a woman that sweetens her husband 
on all occasions of discontent ; one whom no accident 
of fortune can move, nor injury, how designed soever, 
provoke to an indecency : and of a man in him that 
weathers his troubles with an evenness of mind ; one 
whom his country's ingratitude cannot tempt to a 
revenge, and so little affecting his own grandeur, that 
T 



290 BELPHEGOR. 

when the Senate had at last elected him duke, he 
modestly refused it. 

And having wrought all together the best I could, I 
absolve the whole. Of which yet, because I may not 
be so competent a judge myself, I here give it as I 
wrote it, and leave it to my unbiassed reader to de- 
termine whether it might not have expected as much 
justice from the house as it found from the actors. 



PROLOGUE. 

On the occasion that the Play fell to he acted next 
after the " Prophetess." * 

Bold was the man that first put out to sea ; 

Nor less advent'rous he that writes a play ; 

Both have their hits : Some scud before the wind, 

Others lie by, and others lag behind. 

And what's the fate of plays ? — the bare success 

Of any one makes the next comer less. 

The market's cloy'd ; some like not this, some that, 

And, as in surfeits, would they know not what ! 

So when the Prophetess has fed your eye, 

From pit and box to upper gallery, 

"V\Tiat may our Devil of this night expect % 

Our Author once was half afraid, neglect ; 

Till he bethought him the best remedy 

For a pall'd stomach was variety ! 

What made the poets gods so oft below ? — 

Or what Apollo so unbend his bow ? — 

Or what makes you leave a fair wife at home 

For a grass-girl, or some odd homely Joan ] 

What but diversion 1 And so I'm bid say. 

He's in good hopes you'll not forejudge his play. 

But stay ! Let's see whom 'tis he must accost ! 
'Tis not the wits he fears ; they're ever just. 
And for those that can only carp, nor care. 
While they keep pushing, how themselves lie bare ; 
Those that speak well of nothing but their own. 
And damn or save merely for faction ; 

* The Prophetess, a Tragical History, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 
revived and printed (1690) by Mr. Dryden under the title of TJie 
PropJietess ; or the History of Dioclesian, with alterations and 
additions after the manner of an opera. Eepresented at the 
Queen's Theatre. 



292 BELPHEGOR. 

Those that bolt what they please, no matter how, 
And carry 't off not by their brains but brow ! 
If any such are here, 'twere well they knew 
Eome's greatest wits were the best natur'd too. 
But if this will not do, he justly thence 
Brings his appeal to you — the men of sense ! 
And if he must be pelted, begs this boon — 
Let him that has least wit throw the first stone. 



THE PERSONS. 



MoNTALTO, . A nolle Genoese,, loho had impaired his 
fortune in serving the Republic. 

Grimaldi, . One other Nobleman, his frieml, who, un- 
known to him, relieves his estate. 

RoDERiGO, . A Devil, disguised under that name and 
person — his proper name Belphegor. 
Given out for a Spanish merchant come 
from the Indies. 

FiESCHi, . . Nepheio to Giimaldi ; Gallant to Imperia, 

Marone,. . An upstart Officer of St. George's Banlc; 
speaks evil of mankind, admires Rode- 
rigo for his wealth, and vilifies Montcdto. 

Mattheo, . A Vineyard-keeper. 

Pansa, . . Serva7it to Fieschi. 

Don Hercio, A Bravo. 

Crispo, . ) Two Puggs, Servants to Roderigo. Crispo, 

Mingo, . / his valet ; Mingo, his page. 

PiCARO, . . The common Executioner. 



Portia, . . Wife to Montalto. 

Imperia, . . Her Sister, Wife to Roderigo. 

Julia, . . Niece to the Duke of Genoa ; a Demoniac, 

possessed hj Belphegor. 
BiANCA, . . Woman to Portia. 
QuARTiLLA, . Matrona to Imperia. 
Scintilla, . Woman to Imperia. 

Servants. Officers. Watchmen. Jews. Women. 
Belzebub and Puggs. Boys. Rabble. 



The Scene : — 
GENOA. 



BELPHEGOR; 

OR, 

THE MAEEIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 



Act I. — Scene i. 

A stately room in Eod:prigo's house. 

Enter Eoderigo, followed hy Crispo and Mingo. 

Eod. We spirits, uncompounded essences, 
Not manacled or immur'd with walls of flesh, 
We can dilate, condense, or limb ourselves. 
As like us best — assume what colour, shape, 
Or size we please. And I have taken this : 
My servants, that ; . my name below, Belphegor ; 
Here, Eoderigo. My quality, a merchant 
Come from the Indies. 0, most happy lot ! 
WHio would believe that void and formless mass, 
That fluid infinite, had e'er produc'd 
Such an harmonious order 1 It strikes wonder 
And ecstasy ! [He turns to his servants. 

And what think ye of this world 1 Is not this better 
than toasting the soles of your feet 1 

Cris. The air, I must confess, is somewhat better ; 
but for the people, not a doit to choose. 

Min. I fancy them the worst of the two, and more 
fond of the place than ourselves. 

Eod. Can ye blame them 1 They know what they 
are in this world, they know not what they may be in 
the next. 



296 BELPHEGOR. 

Oris. Yet live here as if they expected no other ! 
And so exquisitely practis'd in cheating one another, 
that the best of us is a mere novice to them. 

Min. Not a skip-kennel but gives you three tricks 
for one. 

Oris. And for their masters — could you believe it, 
sir? — I met with a signior t'other night, most devoutly, 
with his beads in one hand and the other in my 
pocket ! 

Bod. Why didst not beat him ? 

Oris. I did but challenge him for 't ; and the rogue 
had the impudence to kick me for taxing a person of 
his honour ! 

Min. I believe both our assumed bodies were 
damn'd cowards while they lived here. For my part, 
I had rather take ten kicks than so much as look 
back to see who gave me one of them. 

Bod. But sure, the women treat ye better 1 

Oris. As judge yourself. It is not long since I had 
a concern with a signiora, and, just as I had stript 
and was going to bed to her, slip went the trap-door, 
and down dropt Crispo into the common shore ! 

3Iin. And mine has given me such a remembrance 
of her love, that, as young soever as my figure speaks 
me, I can hardly speak knitting-needles without en- 
dangering the bridge of my nose. And when I tax'd 
her for it, had the impudence to ask me how she 
could give it when she still kept it herself ? 

[EoDERiGO smiles. 

Bod. But how d' ye find mankind in general 1 

Oris. Still slandering us : — As drunk as a devil — As 
mad as a devil — As poor as a devil — As dull as a 
devil — and what not ! — when yet there's not so much 
difference between us as would turn a pair of scales. 

Min. And then perpetually playing fast and loose 
with us ! Ever and anon giving their souls to the 
devil; yet at last bequeathing them another way, 
without the least thought of the pre-conveyance to us. 
And therefore, I beseech ye, give me leave to return 
to my old quarters. 



BELPHEGOR. 297 

Cris, Not forgetting thy excellencies, poor Crispo. 

Bod. Villiachoes 1 And must ye throw up your 
cards when they play into your hand 1 Peace, and 
be thankful ! all this but makes our game. Go, humour 
them ! for we're restrain'd, and can do nothing without 
themselves. They hold the candle to us. The mud's 
their own : we only shake the vial and stir it up — and 
so, look out, and sharp ! — 

[Exeunt Crispo and Mingo. 
Now to my own affair : — 

[RoDERiGO takes out a paper and reads. 
"At the Pandemonium or Common Council of the 
Infernal Lake. Present — Lucifer, Abaddon, Belzebub, 
and others, the high and mighty lords, potentates, and 
princes of the Grand Abyss. — Whereas, upon taking 
our yearly audits, it has been observ'd that the souls 
of such as arrive generally agree that their wives sent 
them : And whereas the said Board had formerly 
ordered, that for the better discovery of the truth 
thereof, some one of their body, as by lot it should 
fall, repair to earth : And whereas the said lot fell 
to Belphegor, Generalissimo of the Asphaltic Lake, — ■ 
Kesolved as followeth : 

"1. That the said Belphegor forthwith take upon 
him that province, and that a million of ducats be 
assign'd him, not as advance, but his full comple- 
ment." — And well enough, no ill encouragement. 

" 2. That for the better carrying on of the said 
service, himself (and two other spirits assigned him as 
servants) be at liberty to assume and actuate what 
bodies, and settle in what part of the world, shall like 
him best." — And I have done't. 

" 3. That upon his first choice of his place of resi- 
dence, he immediately marry a wife, and live with her 
ten years if possible ; after which, pretending to die, 
that he return, and upon his own experience make 
affidavit of the pleasures and calamities of marriage. '* 
— And I have done that first. A desperate service, no 
doubt ! [He smiles. 

"4. That he lose all qualities of a spirit (unless, 



298 BELPHEGOR. 

perhaps, upon some last exigence), and become in all 
things as a man ; subject to all the conditions of 
humanity — poverty, imprisonment, passions, fear, hate, 
love." — 

Were there ten thousand more, that sweetened all : 
Love ! — There's no passion but what's founded on 't ; 
Men fear for what they love — desire, hate, envy. 
And all because they love themselves. But mine 
Carries a nobler tincture ; and I love 
To that degree, I've half forgot the sex. 

[He changes his voice. 
And, but that she has little odd humours, and per- 
haps, too, some fits of her mother ; Origen ! I'd 
release thy kindness, and never accept other heaven 
than here. 
But see ! she comes ! 

[Imperia and attendants cross the stage, as conducting 
her sister Portia to her coach. They bow at dis- 
tance. He points after her. 
Such was the infant morn, when it first brake, 
And blush'd, to see the Chaos left behind her. 
Thence I felt passion first : what else I view'd 
Wrought in my mind no change, no fond desire ; 
But there, I am transported. — I, that was 
High proof 'gainst all things else, there, there alone, 
Weak, for to me whate'er she wills is fate. 

[Imperia returns, sola. He runs to her. 
Sure Nature was asleep when thou stol'st forth, 
And all the graces she design'd an age 
Crowded themselves together, and made thee. 

Imjp. And are not you a fine gentleman to coax 
your poor wife ? Alas, poor fool ! she cannot choose 
but believe ye. 

Rod. Couldst thou but see my heart, thou wouldst. 

Imp. You can't dissemble, not you — ^you are — marry 
— that you are. [She strokes him. 

Rod. At least would be, whate'er I thought might 
please thee ; 
And were the world at my dispose, 'twere thine ! 

Imp. No doubt of it. Witness the necklace ! 



BELPHEGOR. 299 

Rod. I had forgot 

Imp. And so you do everything that concerns me. 

Rod. See 1 I have brought thee a better. 

[He gives her a necklace. 

Imp. But I long'd for t'other. The set of Neapolitan 
horses, too ; but I'm your wife. There ! — [She throws 
it away.] — Pray bestow it where you intended it ! I 
could observe that eye of yours as my sister pass'd 
you. [He offers to emhrace her. She turns him off. 

Rod. Fie ! my Imperia, fie ! Wilt thou be always 
thus 1 

Imp. And much you care whether I am or not. 

One would think a woman of my quality [She puts 

finger in eye.] — I know not why so many good women 
die, but wish I were dead too, that I might trouble 
you no longer ! 

Rod. No ! I'll die first, that thou mayst have 
another. 

Imp. No marvel, truly, — I live so well with you ! 

Rod. She. cries ! By heaven she cries ! Poor inno- 
cence ! — My life ! my soul ! my Imperia ! thou shalt 
have anything — we'll come to articles. 

Imp. And long you'll keep them. 

Rod. By this kiss, for ever ! 

[She receives it still sobbing. 

Imp. And shall I have the necklace I long'd for] 

[Sobs. 

Rod. Thou shalt, my dear ! 

Imp. The set of horses, too *? [Sobs. 

Rod. I would they were better for thy sake. Thou 
shalt ! 

Imp. The brooch of diamonds would be very be- 
coming, and the locket. — [A half sob.] — Now, 'twas so 
pretty ! 

Rod. That and whatever else thou wilt ! 

Imp. The pearls, too, were large, round, oriental ; 
and the pendants so delicate — I fancy how I should 
appear in them ! [She comes info a pleasant humour. 

Rod. Less than thou truly art ; but thou shalt have 
them ! 



300 BELPHEGOR. 

Imp. And — \_she strokes him] — do what I will ] 

Bod. What pleases thee sha'n't be amiss to me; 
only be kind, and love thy Eoderigo ! 

[They strike hands upon it. 

Imp. A match, a match ! I will. 

[Makes a loiu reverence. Exit. 

Rod. Some tetchy mortal, now, would have quar- 
rell'd; but we old experienc'd devils know better 
things. [He walks. 

And live with her ten years, if possible % Mistaken 
fools, 'tis possible ! I will live with her, and that for 
ever ! [It thunders. A Head rises. 

Head. Thy articles, Belphegor, thy articles ! 

Bod. And what of them ? The Casuists are clear 
in the point; they may be shifted for advantage. 
Sue them ! 

Head. But is there not a public faith even among 
devils 1 

Bod. It may be broke for empire ; why not for love, 
then, that commandeth empire 1 It may, and shall ! 
Begone ! 

Head. Be witness, thou inviolable Styx ! 
Thou 'ast broken thine, and I pronounce thee mutinous. 

[Sinks. 

Bod. That I could reach the slave I'd make him 
know 
I fill my orb myself, and make my circle 
"Without a borrowed light ! [Another thunder. 

Squib on ! and say 

I am more proud in my Imperia's love 
Than when, as thunder proof, I once bestrid 
That vast convex of lire, and leading up 
The embattled legions of apostate cherubs, 
Plough'd the parch'd earth and made the affrighted 

deep 
Shrink to its last recess ! 

Enter Lviperia running. 

Irap. 0, my dear ! heard you not the thunder 1 I'm 
so afraid ! 



BELPHEGOR. 301 

Eod. Of what 1 — Of thy own shadow % 

Imp. How can you be alone 1 

Bod. Yet meditating on thee; that very thought 
were company enough. 

Imp. 0, but confess; you look as you were dis- 
turbed. 

Bod. And thou so near 1 Impossible ! Or were it so, 
The sight of thee would reconcile my passions, 
And give me to myself [She strokes him. 

Imp. But won't you tell me true % Are you not 
well] 

Bod. How can that man be ill that's happy enough 
To pity Caesar ? And such am I in thee. 

\He emhraces her. 
Here will I fix my empire — here I'll reign, 
And reign alone ! [He leads her off. Exeunt. 



Scene il 

A stately room in Grimaldi's house. 

Enter Grimaldi, Marone, Fieschi, and Pansa. 

Gri. You cannot say but that he paid you honestly. 

Mar. I wish I could say I were as well satisfied. I 
never found such honest payments rais'd an estate. 
If ever I deal more on single interest, may I lose my 
principal ! 

Gii. Who'd have expected even that, at least [you'd 
have] taken it from one so honourable, that has 
perish'd his own fortune to save the public ? 

Mar. These honourable rags are such fine things ! 
How, I pray, do you find the price current ? Does 
the frippery deal in such lumber? I think not. 
Good sir, keep your whipt-posset for your better 
friends, and give me more substantial fare. 

Fies. His virtue might deserve better language ; 
and it may be a question, if it had not been for him, 
whether the State had been at least what it now is ! 



302 BELPHEGOR. 

Gri. And true ! When tlie sun could hold no 
longer, and the moon slept, his eyes have been our 
sentinels. 

Mar. But what money has he got with all this ? 
or what share in the government ? Simple merit 
lords few men's horoscopes. 

Gri. Greater than both — the conscience of worthy 
actions. 

Mar. What credit has it in the bank 1 For my 
part, I can boast I have kill'd mine. And, if you'd 
hear me, could show you a man has done nothing of 
all this, and yet even the senate will confess him 
wise, prudent, virtuous — everything ; and that he is 
not one of themselves, I believe it more his own fault 
than theirs. 

Gri. Who should this be 1 

Mar. What think ye of his brother-in-law, Eoderigo"? 
There's a man for ye ! and, to my glory, he calls me 
friend ! 

Gri. But whence this meteor ? 

Mar. Whence e'er he came, he darkens all our stars. 
You'd swear he were descended of the Goths, 
Or had been at the siege of Constantinople ! 

Gri. Some Moor or baptiz'd Jew 1 

Mar. Be what he will — 

Turk, Pagan, or Infidel — would I'd his wealth 
With his religion ! He's a Castilian ! 
Were I that man ! 

Fies. You'd take 't for an affront 

His Catholic Majesty should call you cousin. 

Mar. And yet you hear me not complain. I've that 
Which finds me friends, or makes them ! — That one 

thing 
That can do all things ! How it makes a door 
Or shut or open. 

Fies. Or yourself, perhaps, 

Snore o'er your cup, or find a fly in the ceiling. 

Mar. That matters not. I'm sure it breeds com- 
punction 
And fellow-feeling in a man of office — 



BELPHEGOR. 303 

Makes and remits offences — even Justice 
More deaf than she is blind. And who would want it 1 
Gri That would Grimaldi, and every man whose soul 
Is not compos'd of the same dirt he treads. 
Want it ! I mean, rather than have 't on terms 
Dishonourable or sordid. 

Mar. But do ye think 

Any one's morals can reform the world ? 
Don't they all thus 1 and, which is more, Court, follow, 
Adore the rich, and spurn the unfortunate. 
Gri. And I as much the world. 
Mar. But say that world 

Spurn you again ? Did ever wise man choose 
Him for a friend that was deprest by fortune ? 
Eats quit a falling house, and men a party 
"When they perceive it going. 

Gri. Where's honesty and honour all this while ? 
Mar. Nay, if you come to that, farewell kingdoms ! 
Nor is it mine to question them. Your servant ! 

[Exit Marone. 
Gri. Well, Fieschi, and what think'st thou 1 
Fies. As is his name, such is the slave himself ! 
Who'd expect other from a dog but snarling 1 

Gri. His soul is sense; and as he has no knowledge 
of virtue, he has no use of it. But how have you 
dispos'd Montalto's matter 1 Is it so order'd that it 
be not known from what hand it came ? 

Fies. 'Twas the last thing I did. I left the writings 
in a seal'd box with Bianca, who has assur'd me she'll 
W9.tch an opportunity, and convey it into her lady's 
closet ! 

Gii. As well as I could wish, good man ! 
He could have sooner perish'd than told me — 
Told me, his friend — he wanted me ! AVho sees 
His friend's distress, and stays till he's entreated, 
He comes too late. 'Tis an extorted kindness. 
Lost ere it comes, and shows he wanted will 
T'ave done 't at all. But this Marone sticks in my 

stomach ! 
"\Mience truly is he ? 



304 BELPHEGOE. 

Fies. Pansa, I think, remembers tlie first plantation. 

Pan. That do I, sir, from the time he first came to 
town in second mourning — that is, in a livery as 
ragged and tatter'd as an he -goat; his hat right 
beggar's block, no crown to 't; his doublet and 
breeches so suitable, that in a dark morning he'd 
have mistaken one for t'other ; his stockings without 
feet or ancles, like a chandler's drawing-sleeves ; and 
those, too, he durst not trust off his legs, for fear of 
crawling away. In a word, a thing made up of so 
many several parishes, that you'd have taken him 
at first sight for a frontispiece of the resurrection. 

Fies. Thence he came in as a sub-subcollector, and 
thence into St. George's Bank ; and now, being in his 
nature insolent, this imaginary reputation has made 
him intolerable. 

Gri. And for his other qualities, I know somewhat 
myself. He never forgave beyond the opportunity of 
a revenge, or spake well of any man but to his greater 
disadvantage. A pretty gentleman ! but, 'tis pity — 

Fies. Nay, worse ! shall play both the devil's parts 
of tempter and accuser; provoke his friend into a 
freedom of talk, and then inform it. 

Ghi. Enough ! and for fear of any mistake make 
another step to Bianca. 

[Exeunt Fieschi and Pansa, Manet Grimaldi. 
And this man thrives 1 Lucian, thy gods ! The 
groans of deprest virtue and loud laughters of exalted 
folly gave first name to the fortunate islands,"^^ where 
men slept themselves away in the melancholy con- 
templations between virtue and success. 

To him enter Montalto and Portia. 

You have prevented me — T was just coming 

To give you joy. The senate have at last 

Consider'd your services ! 

Mon. And sent me a gewgaw, 

[Montalto tahes out a chain and medal, and shows it 

An empty nothing ! Pth ! 

* Supposed to have been the Canary Islands. 



BELPHEGOR. 305 

Gri 'Twas never intended 

Beyond a mark of honour, and a pledge 
Of future kindness ! 

Mon. He's a beast that serves 

A commonwealth ; for, when he has spent his blood 
And sunk his fortune to support the pride 
And luxury of those few that cheat the rest, 
He straight becomes the object of their scorn 
Or jealousy. 

Gri. How oddly my friend argues 

Against himself ! Have you not served the State 
These twenty years 1 And can you think it wisdom 
To quarrel now 1 Or now, when reasonably 
You might expect the fruit of all your hazards. 
Arm them against you 1 Virtue, merit, worth, 
Ne'er wanted enemies ; make not you more ! 

Mon. When they behold themselves through their 
false optics. 
They swell a gnat into an elephant ; 
When others, how they turn the glass, and lessen 
A mountain to a mole-hill ! 

G)'i. Are you the only man has been so serv'd 1 

Who deserv'd better for a lawgiver. 
Than Solon ? or captain, than Thrasibulus ? 
Or orator, than Demosthenes ? Yet Athens, 
Ungrateful Athens, banish'd the two first. 
And slew the latter ! Unto whom owed Eome 
More than to Manlius, who, when her capital 
Was grown too hot for Jupiter, preserved it 1 
Or what might not Camillus have pretence to. 
Who, when she was reduc'd to her last stake, 
Push'd it and won it ? What should I mention 1 — 
Rutilius, Scipio, Hannibal, Themistocles — 
Men famous in their age — yet they fell — 
Fell where they most deserv'd. 

Mo7i. How my blood curdles at it ! And methinks 
I feel a kind of currishness shot through me. 
And want no property of a dog but fawning, 
Tho' necessary to a rising man. 

For. Is this that fortitude, my Montalto, 
u 



306 BELPHEGOR. 

This that heroic virtue you taught me 1 

Sure 'tis not the Montalto I have seen, 

When victory sat perching on his helm ; 

Or that Montalto, when, opprest by numbers. 

He lost the day, and yet brought home more glory 

Than if he had been conqueror ; yet still, 

Still the same even temper — ^unconcern'd 

At loss or vict'ry ! 

Mon. Would it not heat a man 

To view his wounds, which, like so many mouths. 
Speak out his wrongs the louder 1 — t'ave consum'd 
Himself to warm ingratitude 1 

For. The fruit 

Of worthy actions is to have done them ; 
And every man that will may give 't himself. 

Mon. How can I stand my breast against a torrent 
Of adverse fortune 1 

For. 'Tis your greater glory 

To stem that flood. How 're you beholden to her. 
That she could pass the herd and single you 
To combat her ? 

Mon. But she has cut my sinews. 

For. The more your honour ! I have heard you say 
That a Eoman was more glorious in his scorch'd 
Than armed hand. Do not distrust yourself, 
And you must conquer her ! The constant man 
Is master of himself and fortune too. 

Mon. Bless me ! Thou glorious woman, never made 
Of common earth, I am concern'd for thee ! 

For. To the world's fondlings be their world ! 
With me, 
My own Montalt' outweighs the apparition. 
The airy dream, which, when they think a substance. 
Grasp at it, they awake and find it nothing ! 
Sure, had it anything worthy our love. 
It Avere a mind that can contemn it. 

Gri. Brave woman ! 

And who might'st bring philosophy to manners. 

For. If you call this philosophy, 'tis what 
Its first inventors meant it, ere our pedants 



BELPHEGOR. 307 

Had made it rather difficult than great. 
Come, my Mont alto, come ! and let th' example 
Of others' virtue now engage your own : 
Their glory your imitation. 

Mon. Thou hast o'ercome, my Portia, and I'll try 
If that content the larger world denies 
May be found in ourselves. Even poverty. 
If it can be content, has lost its name. 
He never has enough that gapes for more ; 
Opinion was never rich, nor content poor. 

Gri. Now, how I love this rugged honesty ! 
Like the first matter, 't 'as all the seeds of good, 
Only wants form and order. \Exeunt 



Scene iil 

The First Scene again. 

Enter Quartilla and Scintilla. 

Qua. Believe me, our signiora has manag'd her 
affair, and if I understand anything of the world, 
well. 

Scin. As how 1 Pray instruct me against the good 
time. 

Qua. Sh'as brought my Don on's knees ; 'tis all now 
as she'll have it. 

Scin. That all ? A mighty business ! Ha'n't they 
been married two years 1 and does not he love her, 
and she know it 1 Few women but would have done 
as much ; besides, — and 'tis every day's experience, — 
even the wisest men, when they once come to love in 
earnest, turn generally half-witted. 

Qua. You are to be instructed indeed, Scintilla. 
He is good-natur'd and does love her ; but there are 
many stubborn fools in the world, and a woman need 
have all her -wits about her to keep her own. But to 
get ground, I know it may be done, but not so easy. 

Scin. I warrant ye, do but bring him to the right 



308 BELPHEGOR. 

manage at first, humour him in everything you can't 
hinder, and the rest follows ; 'tis not the point whether 
she loves, but whether he believes so. There's your 
art : to get him play himself into the noose, and be 
proud oft too. 

Qua. Well, well, the world is strangely alter'd since 
my time. Young girls then were not wont to be so 
knowing, but now they are even able to teach us. 

Enter Pansa. 

Pan. Now, grannum, and my pretty convenience ! 

Qua. Grannum, with a murrain t' ye ! 

[Pansa colls Scintilla. 
Nothing down with you but squab-pigeons ! — A likely 
fellow if a woman durst trust him, but men now-a- 
days are so deceitful. [Aside. 

Scin. Get ye to Bianca ! I'll tell her — you do so 
mousle one. 

Qua. Fie, Signior Pansa, fie ! is there no more but 
fall on without so much as a short grace 1 I'm sure 
it was not so 

Pan. The year you lost your maidenhead ; and that 
was so long since, you have by this time forgotten you 
ever had one. 

Qua. Away, knave, away ! 

Scm. Yet she '11 not turn her back to you now. 

Qua. Nor a better than himself 

Pan. No anger, I beseech ye ! After the dull rate 
men made love formerly, I should look upon a petti- 
coat as one of the most defensible spots in Christen- 
dom — so many scarfs, curtains, portcullises, counter- 
works, and what not ; but, now that we'ave a shorter 
cut of surprise, sapping, downright storm, or springing 
a mine, up goes scarf, curtain, portcullis — and, hey 
da! 

Scin. Well, Pansa, thou 'It never break thy heart 
for love. 

Pan. Love ! — 'tis a kind of colic ; as long as ye keep 
it under girdle ye may linger on with 't, and well 
enough; but if it once get breast-high, the whole mass 



BELPHEGOR. 309 

is infected, and I can only say, as physicians of their 
dying patients, his time is come, cover him up, and 
send for a parson. 

Enter Bianca. 

Qvu. Come, Scintilla ! 'tis as thou saidst, here she 
comes. He's a filthy man, e'en leave them together. 
[Exeunt Quartilla and Scintilla. 

Pan. B'w'ye, grannum ! And now, my best girl, 
thou hast not forgot, I hope 1 

Bian. I msli I had. My lady was abroad this 
afternoon, and I laid the box as you directed; but, 
when she came forth, she gave me such a look, ask'd 
me who had been there, and particularly named your 
master. 

Pan. Never the worse ; she could not have done 
less. But thou hadst the grace to deny all ? 

Bian. D'ye take me for a fool ? But this I told her, 
— a gentleman I never saw before brought it, and 
pray'd me to lay it in her closet, as I had done, and I 
hop'd without offence ; if otherwise, I was sorry. 

Pan. And that clear' d all again % 

Bian. Quite contrary ! I saw fire in her eyes, yet 
trembled, and could hardly speak. At last, she com- 
manded me to find you out, and that you let your 
master know she must speak with him. 

Pan. Must, my she secretary ? 

Bian. Yes, must, and out of hand. And if I lose 
my place by the bargain, I have spun a fine thread. 

Pan. Fear nothing : or if thou should' st, my master's 
a gentleman, and my bed will hold two. 

Bian. You men consider nothing. 

Pan. And you wom^n too much. I tell thee, my 
master, the knight, shall make his amour to thy lady, 
the princess, while I, Pansa, the squire, put it in 
practice with thee, Bianca, the damsel. 

Bian. Well, now, and that's so fine ! but when will 
ye bring me some of those books 1 Beshrew me, but I 
should have broken my heart long ere this if 'twere 
not for them. 



310 BELPHEGOR. 

Pan. Thou shalt have anything — my heart, my 
all! 

Bian. 'Tis not the first time you told me so. Ay, 
but 

Pa7i. D'ye think I am bound to find ye fresh oaths 
every time 1 

Bian. When shall I see ye at our house % 

Pan. To-morrow, without fail. And is not this 
better than putting all to the last % And what's that 
but singing a psalm under the gallows % 

Bian. But be sure, now, and find out your master 
presently, and send him to my lady ! 

Pan. Doubt not of either. — [Exit BiANCA.] — 'Tis the 
best-humour'd thing — a jolly pug, and well-mouth'd 
— none of the first or second rate, I must confess ; 
he that sees her by day would hardly break his neck 
to come at her by night. However, she's good mer- 
chantable ware, and well-condition'd; and, how shy 
soever she now and then makes it, serves my turn 
when a better's out of the way. [Exit Pansa. 



Act II. — Scene i. 

The First Scene again. 

Enter Eoderigo, solus. 

Rod. My private instructions were to pervert and 
enlarge the kingdom of darkness. Nor have I been 
idle. I thought Marone might have given me some 
pains, but he was mine at first, and has engaged to 
me for his brothers of the bank ; but this Montalto 
I much doubt, or rather fear him. 

Enter Marone. 

My friend ! welcome, my better half! we're now con- 
cern'd, body, soul, interest. 



BELPHEGOR. 311 

Mar. And when I fail ye, I'll turn a new leaf, and 
build hospitals. But what progress have ye made 
with Montalto 1 

Rod. He's rugged, and wiU neither lead nor drive 
but his own way ; and therefore I question whether 
we had not better let him alone. 

Mar. But he is poor and lofty ; despair him not. 
This gold, 'tmll make a man do anything ; I never 
yet found man or woman that withstood it long. 

Rod. I would you'd feel his pulse, and I'll advance 
the money. 

Mar. That shall be least in the case, and I'd will- 
ingly undertake it, but that, as you know, there's 
no kindness between us ; and for me but so much 
as to appear in it may render it suspected, whereas 
from you, his brother-in-law, his friend, it can't but 
pass. 

Rod. I yield : it shall be so ! 

Mar. Then, if you find him cold, I'll discover it my- 
self. Tell me of 's ^drtue ! — a rattle for children ! I 
hate it perfectly, and him for it. 'Why should any 
man pretend to more than comes to his share 1 

Rod. Now let me hug my genius ! and whom I love 
so well, that, were I not sped already, I'd go no 
farther than your family. 

Mar. Between ourselves, give her a fig, and see if I 
don't fit ye to your wish. 

Rod. by no means; you run too fast ! 

Mar. You need not be asham'd of her; we are 
descended from Marius, and have had some cro^vn'd 
heads of the house, tho', I confess it, somewhat long 
since they have had any sceptre in their hands. 

Rod. I judge it by yourself 

Mar. Nor, to tell ye truth, can every man say so 
much, or would, perhaps, be willing to hear all that 
may be said of his. And that's the reason why so 
many of the ancients were descended from the gods ; 
for, when their birth was so obscure that they were 
asham'd to own it, the jade the mother, or some blind 
poet, found out a god to father the bastard. • ^Mlat, I 



312 BELPHEGOR. 

pray, were Bacchus, Hercules, Eomulus, and several 
others 1 Story lies, or their fathers were of the doubt- 
ful gender, and their mothers of the common. But 
this by the by. And, because I hear somebody coming, 
I'll withdraw, for fear it happen to be Montalto. 

[Exit Marone. 
Bod. Devils, do they call us 1 Poor devils, where 
have we been bred 1 This one, Marone, may shame us 
all, and, had I done no more, is worth my journey. 

Enter Montalto. 

Health and his own wishes to my brother ! 

3Ion. The same and more, were 't possible, to you. 

Bod. But I'm half angry — angry with myself — 
That this alliance is not yet made friendship. 

Mon. No man shall court it more. And such a one 
As loves the man and not his fortune — such 
As can hide anything but his love, and whose 
Mistakes shall be of weakness, not design. 

Bod. Now, how you speak, my soul ! This empty 
world 
Is hollow, false, ungrateful ; and men live 
As if 'twere made for them, they for themselves. 

3fon. 'Twas ever so. 

Bod. Witness those mangled officers, 

Maim'd soldiers, wooden-legg'd artillerymen. 
Spies and intelligencers out at heels — 
Some showing their wounds, others numbering the 
battles they have been in and the estates they have 
lost ; some muttering libels, others modelling a refor- 
mation, and not the least part of them studying where 
to get a meal upon reputation. 

Mon. And yet there's not a private soldier but 
glories in his wounds, as having received them in 
defence of his country. 

Bod. And no doubt but they call them worthy 
deeds, but I say they are deeds worthy of repentance ; 
and such are all services paid to the ungrateful. 
To go no further than yourself, what have you got 
by all yours 1 



BELPHEGOR, 313 

Mon. The satisfaction of having done what I ought. 
Virtue is theatre enough into herself ! 

Rod. You have said well and worthily; and, be- 
cause he that is pleased with another's good increases 
his own, give me leave, brother, and now friend, to 
propose to you an honourable advantage. 

[MoNTALTO hows to Mm. 
But it requires secrecy, and I must have your word 
for 't. 

Mon. I know not what it may be. 

Rod. You're at your liberty if you don't like it. 

Mon. You have my word. 

[Imperia is seen jpeeping in. 

Rod. Then thus : There is a prince, whose name 
must be as yet conceal'd, is so sensible of your merit 
and this republic's ingratitude, that he has order'd ye 
ten thousand pistoles, as a small pledge of his future 
favour; and I'll advance the money. 

[MoNTALTO starts. 

Mon. Ten thousand pistoles ! and from a prince 
unknown ! And what must I do for all this '? 

Rod. Kings have their reasons to themselves, too 
deep for private men to fathom. Who knows but he 
may have a design upon Italy 1 — this, or some other 
place 1 and, which is further in my instructions, has 
pitch'd on you as general for the expedition 1 

Mon. How are you sure it has not taken wind % 

Rod. Not a man on this side the Alps knows it 
besides ourselves. 

Mon. Or that your king will keep his word, more 
than Genoa has hers ? 

Rod. I have the monej^ in the house. He's coming ! 

[Aside. 

Mon. But is not this to betray my country % 

Rod. Give it another name, and do 't ! Who ever 
scrupled a safe revenge % Success will call it justice. 

Mon. Upon my country ? 

Rod. But ungrateful country. That only is my 
country where I am well ! And what think you % 

Mon. That you have said too much for me to hear. 



314 BELPHEGOR. 

I lend a hand to slave my country 1 No ! 
That won't Montalto, the disoblig'd Montalto ; 
Virtue forbid the thought ! Tho' she mayVe lost 
Th' affection of a mother, she's my mother ; 
And, as she bears that name, I must and will 
Support her, or lie buried in her ruins ! 

Bod. Howe'er, I doubt not but I'm safe ; your word. 
The great credentials of mankind, secures me. 

Mon. Unlawful promises oblige to nothing 
But a repentance ; and to keep mine here 
Would be a double crime, and break those laws 
Of piety and faith my country claims. 

Bod. Country ! — A thing of chance, no choice of 
yours j 
Your mother might have dropped ye anywhere ! But if 
You break your Word, you violate your honour ; 
And that's your own. 

3fon. Perish for me that honour, 

Life, estate, everything, so she be safe ! 
And so, my sister-in-law's husband, no more friend, 
I'll not resolve ye Avhat I'll do ; but know, 
'Twas not within my word not to prevent ye. [Bxit. 

Bod. Bubbled ! by this good light, merely bubbled 1 
and when, one would have thought, I had him — all to 
nothing ! Sure, sure, our masters lie under a great 
mistake, and mankind were once the ancient er devils, 
and invented that sham of their wives sending them 
only to frighten us from vent'ring among them. 

Enter Imperia. 

I hope she did not hear me. [Aside. 

Imp. And what, if I may be so bold, have my wise 
brother-in-law and you been projecting 1 "When d'ye 
set out^ 

Bod. For what, my dear, or whither 1 

Imp. Why, for the Indies in a cock-boat, or France 
on a mill-stone ! I hope you'll go by the north-west 
passage, and take a bait by the way, to hear the mere- 
maids sing ! Your friend, my sister's husband, would 
make a special general for the expedition ! Ten 



BELPHEGOR. 315 

thousand pistoles will do no hurt; you have it in the 
house, and may advance it. 

Rod. Betray 'd too ! — [Aside.'] — But why this to me] 
Prithee, my dear 

Imp. Methinks you're very familiar. 

[She turns him off. 

Rod. Nay, my best Avife, do but hear me ! 

Imp. Wife 1 marry ! You think I cannot read your 
thoughts in your looks % You must be plotting, must 

ye? 

Rod. If to raise thee to grandeur be plotting, I'm 
guilty ! One successful work a-la-mode is a surer game 
than a thousand good works. 

Imp. I smell your design ; it is to ruin me. I was 
once told by a cunning woman beggary would be my 
end, and you take the way to 't. 

Rod. 1 have enough — ne'er fear it. 

Imp. Yes, and are fi^ee enough of it to every one 
but me ; and there it goes from your heart. 

Rod. Thou know'st the contrary ; it is but ask and 
have. Dost want anything 1 

Imp. As if a woman must have nothing but what 
ghe wants and asks ! My family were never wont to 
ask. 

Rod. And I've been kind to them for your sake. I 
have honourably bestowed two of your sisters. 

Imp. They could have done 't themselves. 

Rod. Sent a brother of yours into the Levant ; 
another for France ; a third into Spain ; and am now 
making provision for a fourth. So that, in effect, I 
have married a tribe, to enjoy one. 

ImjJ. Yes, to twit me mth it. 

Enter Don Hercio. 

signior ! that you had come a little sooner ! Our 
spouse and I have been at jingle-jangle. He knows 

1 love him, and that's the reason. 

Her. Hough 1 — jangle with you ! I hope, sir, you 

did not lift a finger ; if you had 

[He cocJcs his liat, and struts. 



316 BELPHEGOR. 

Imp. I'd given him two for one. [She points at him. 

Rod. And who are you ? 

Her. Soy hydalgo come il re! My name — Don 
Hercio Zanziimmim Gogmagog, lineally descended 
from the Dukes of Infantado, Trinidado — or some- 
body else. And if you had 

Imp. No, there was nothing like it. 

[EoDERiGO startles. 

Her. I only say, if he had, my great, great, great, 
great-grandfather's ashes — ^his that gave the Sultan 
the lie, and took the Cham of Tartary by the whiskers 
royal — would blush to see any of his posterity not true 
to honour. You say he did not, and I'm satisfied. 
But if he had, or durst but offer 't — Voto ! 

Imp. Come, signior, TU be his security. 

[Hercio leads Imperia of. 

Rod. She has her bravo, too ! Cowardly devil that 
I was not to draw upon him ! Yes, and fright my 
wife, who, which is some sign of love, did not aggra- 
vate it. Well, go thy ways, thou hast thy frolics ! 
yet it shall go hard but I will hit thy humour. 

[Exit. 



Scene i i. 

A nolle room in Montalto's house. 

Enter Portia sola. 

For. My husband is convinced, and so am I, 
The action, in all its circumstances. 
Must be Grimald's ; for 't can be none's but his. 
And yet I'm racked between the two extremes 
Of friendship to him and my just resentments 
To his false nephew. All unknown to us, 
The generous Grimaldi has restored 
My husband's fortune : his degenerous nephew 
Has taken this occasion to renew 
His long rejected love. 



BELPHEGOR. 317 

E7der Fieschi, as at a stand, and gazing on her. 

Fies. Her virtue, sure, 

Has wrought impossibilities, and added 
New graces to her person, as if infinity 
Could be increas'd. 

For. I sent for ye, Fieschi ; 

But it had been more honourable in you 
Not to have given me cause. Your worthy uncle 
Has, to his frequent obligations, 
Added a fresh — I need not tell ye what. 

Fies. And 'tis his satisfaction that he wanted 
Neither the will nor means of doing it. 

For. Debts are discharg'd with payment. Benefits, 
Pay what we can, there will be still arrear. 
But, for his nephew to profane that friendship, 
I could be angry — verily I could 
And would, were 't not to make another's ill 
My own aflfliction. 

Fies. Blame your virtue, then ! 

Montalto loved it ; and the selfsame cause 
That absolves him absolves Fieschi too. 
He rested not in speculation only ; 
And shall I turn philosopher 1 

For. I'm his, 

And only his, and therefore barred to you. 

Fies. But nature's free, and walks not by restraint 
But choice. 

Fo7\ And I have mine. 

Fies. She never coined 

Those bugbear words of honour, jealousy ; 
She ne'er impaled free woman, or designed 
A thing so excellent for one's embrace. 

For. Enough ! When that I ever heard ye, was as 
Much against my will as the concealing it 
Against my duty. No ; a virtuous woman 
Takes no more liberty than what she ought. 

Fies. At least blame love, not me. I've often rais'd 
Your great idea in my soul, and, as 
A diamond only cuts a diamond. 



318 BELPHEGOR. 

Set your own virtue 'gainst yourself; yet still 
Love gets the upper ground, and pours upon me : 
So weak a fence is virtue against love. 

Por. We still excuse ourselves. The fault lies not 
In virtue, but our resolutions. 
Could we once make our actions work up 
To our intentions, the work were done. 
There — take your idle whatsoever it be ! 

\Slm takes out a long white box, and throws it 
toward him. 
I knew the hand too well to open it. 

Fies. And will you still torment me with the sight 
Of a forbidden good 1 

Por. Not good to you. 

Because forbidden. If you're wise, begone ! 

Fies. You've said it, and I obey. 
[He is going off, as fm^getting the box ; she hicks it after 
him ; he takes it up. Exit. 

Pot. But take your box wi' ye. 
Sure I have done some evil, and the guilt 
Sticks on my brow. It must be so, or he 
Had never offered this amour to me. 
Be't what it will, this I'm sute, my will 
Had nothing in 't ; yet how poor and cheap 
Do even the appearances of evil make us ! 

Enter Grimaldi and Montalto hand in hand. 

Mon. Your repeated obligations 
Deprive me of my liberty. 

Gri. In exchange, take mine ! 

Por. The only injury you ever did us ; 
For it has put us on the necessity 
Of living and dying ungrateful. 

Mon. A benefit too great to be received. 

Gri. Not for a friend to give. 

Mon. But what return 

Could ye propose 1 

Gri. 'T has overpaid itself 

To have done well, in hopes of a return, 
Is the most sordid usury. Alloy 



I 



BELPHEGOR. 319 

Does but embase the coin ; and such a thought 
Had derogated from the majesty 
Of friendship, and been interest. 

Man. But does not 

EquaHty make the lasting friendship ? 

Gri Of minds, I grant it. Friendship cannot stand 
With vice or infamy. Degenerous mixtures 
Seldom outlive the birth. And as ours was 
Founded on virtue, like a true-built arch, 
May it grow up until it knit at top. 
And bid defiance to the shocks of fortune. 

For. Thus you o'ercome us every way. 

Mon. Teach me 

What 'tis to be a friend ; one without whom. 
As a man can't be happy, 'tis not his least 
Unhappiness he never knows his friend 
But by being unhappy himself. A friend ! 
My earthly God ! 

Ghi. As you are mine, no more ! 

Come, let's enjoy this salt of life — this all 
That gives it relish, and without which life 
Were but a dull parenthesis of time. 
The world a wilderness, and man the beast. 
I've wanted company in a crowd. Blest friendship ! 
Thou girdle of the world ! Had I been heathen, 
I'd sacrificed unto no other goddess. [Exeunt. 



Scene hi. 

The First Scene again. 

Enter Imperia, Quartilla, and Scintilla. 

Imp. To say otherwise were to belie him ; and, 
as all men have their faults, the worst of his that I 
know is that he loves me too well. 

Scin. And such a fault may be easily borne with. 

Quar. Thou'rt a mere chicken, girl ! there may be 
as great a mistake in loving a woman too well as in 



320 BELPHEGOR, 

loving her too little. What would I care for a man 
should court my little finger, look babies in my eyes, 
sit and admire me 1 That was not the fashion of my 
time ; men were men then. 

Imp. And there, too, he's likely enough — truss and 
well knit. But why this to me 1 

Quar. Your ladyship was wont to allow us this 
harmless freedom. 

ImjJ. Or, if I don't, you'll take it. 

Quar. Without offence, then, what diversion have ye'? 

Imp. As pleases my husband ; and I have neither 
eye nor ear to anything else. 

Sciii. And a friend would study as much to please you. 

Imj). I should think one husband were enough for 
any modest woman. Are there naughty women 1 

Quar. Marry forbid it ! Or that they should not be 
content with one eye, one hand, one leg. 

Imp. But one's husband, tho', is the best friend. 

Quar. And the worst company. Fie, madam, you'll 
ruin the sex ! Husband, say jel A mere thing — a 
cover-slut of custom ! 

Scin. Has not every well two buckets 1 — every ship 
two anchors 1 Or did you never see two cocks cruck- 
ling about one hen, and her all the while picking of 
straws to make her own nest ? 

Quar. Well said, my fine girl ! Thou may'st come 
to something in time. 

Imp>. How these jades hit my humour ! — [Aside.] — 
O — but — would a woman — a virtuous woman — a 
woman of honour 

Quar. Do anything but say her prayers. 

Impf. Besides — the injury. 

Scin. To what 1 — or whom 1 You lose nothmg, sell 
no household stuff, nor waste goods. 

Quar. Or if the main house fall, do but keep up the 
dovecot, and you'll ne'er want pigeons till ye dam 
up the loovre.* 

* " Loover or lover," an opening at the top of a dovecot. 
"A loover or tunnel in the roof or toj) of a great hall to avoid 
smoke.''— Baeet, 1590. 



BELPHEGOR. 321 

Imp. But you know I seldom go abroad, and for 
me to receive visits would make my husband jealous. 

Scin. Thatain 

Quar. Or can he be so ill-natured, as, when his own 
belly's full, to deny a beggar his leavings 1 

Irap. But people will be apt to talk of a body. 

Quar. For what % — For going to church \ Can't you 
pretend a vow of devotion and chastity for three days 
a week 1 

Imp. And suppose he make the like for t'other 
four] 

Scin. How willingly, now, would she be persuaded 
into her own desires ! — [Aside.] — You're young, and 
the town's full. 

Imp. You could not set up, then, with partridge and 
quail for the year round 1 

Scin. No, by my troth, could I not ; and yet I've 
but a puling stomach. 

Imp. There's somewhat in 't. What's everything 
we do but a mere circle of variety, or grand oleo 
dish'd up several ways to sweeten the wearisomeness 
of one pleasure by another 1 What's imagination or 
desire, when once attained, but surfeit 1 Fish of four 
days old — away with 't ! 

Quar. Your ladyship takes it very naturally. Don't 
the men say of us — women — and women — and more 
women — but still women 1 

Imp. And shall woman — nature's last hand, to show 
what she could do — she alone walk by herself 1 — To 
one dark lantern 1 — She shut her windows to the 
sun, to pore over a farthing candle 1 Which of them- 
selves does it 1 — and shall 1 1 

Scin. No, madam ! if the men ring the changes, I 
know not why we mayn't shuffle, and cast knaves 
again. 

Imp. Well fare, honest Mahomet ! We read of no 
couples in his paradise — and yet young juicy girls, 
plump, balmy, and never above fifteen. 

Quar. Beloved fifteen ! 

Imp. And eyes ! 

X 



322 BELPHEGOR. 

Scin. More sparMing than the diamond. 

Imp. I should have thought the cow's eye better. 
A demure look keep its own counsel, and a little seem- 
ing innocence cheats a man into a fondness. The 
sparkling eye may hit a straggling fool ; but 'tis the 
melting, 'tis the dying eye that sweeps whole ranks. 
Let's see — [to Scintilla] — set thine ! — Hold — ^there — 
there was a look ! So — that again 1 

Unter FiESCHi, as consulting somewhat to himself. 

Fies. What ! practising against the ball 1 I fear me 
I may have disturbed ye. 

Imp. Not at all, unless it be with your new gravity. 

But whence — whence this starched face"? — or why*? 

[She beckons o/Quartilla and Scintilla. 

[Exeu7it. 

Fies. Besides my former disappointments, it is not 
many hours since I left your sister Portia — but the 
same chagrin still. Like the Parthian, she kills by 
flying. 

Imp. Alas, poor Fieschi, thou'rt smitten ! I thought 
how ye loved me, and have found it. 

Fies. You wrong me • there's nothing might have 
taken in that sullen fort but I've attempted — made 
all the approaches love backed with interest could 
contrive, but all in vain. 

Imp. The necklace cost me twelve hundred ducats. 

Fies. That you had seen with what scorn she kick'd 
it after me ! 

Imp. That all 1 — she shall have a better jewel. 

Fies. To as much purpose. A rock is not more 
immovable. 

Imp. Yet I have known a rock blown up. 

Fies. Her virtue is as firm as her face charming. 

Imp. Away, ye fool ! I have too many charms of 
my own to suspect another's. — 'Tis not her beauty, 
but virtue, quarrels me — that half-faced virtue that 
has its faults as well as others, but a better way of 
hiding 'em. 

Fies. Be 't what it will, 't 'as conquered me ; and. 



BELPHEGOR. 323 

were 't not for my prior love to you, I must have doted 
on her. 

Imp. False man ! And, when I think upon the 
thing I'd curse, I'll name Fieschi [She seems to weep. 

Fies. Be merciful, and kill me, or forgive me ! I'll 
yet attempt her — I will ! — ^but — she's your sister. 

Imp. What's that to my command ? Only conquer 
her, and wear myself and fortune. That nature had 
made me a man ! Consider — I'll return instantly ! 

[Exit 

Fies. If ever man had a wolf by the ears, I have 
one now. If I renew my attempts on Portia, and 
carry her, I hazard the friendship between my uncle 
and Montalto ; and, if I don't, I lose Imperia. Of all 
devils, defend me from a woman's devil ! 

Erder Imperia, with lags of gold in her lap and a 
casket of jewels in her hand. 

Imp. There ! — [she drops the hags, and gives him the 
.] — There's more gold and richer jewels, and, 
as a farther pledge, this — [a ring] — and my heart. 
Not yet resolved ^ Away ! [She strokes him. 

Fies. I was meditating some new contrivance. 'Tis 
done ! 

Imp. There spake my better angel. 

Fies. But say 

Imp. More but's? Has she no she friend, no 
woman? — and while I think on't, you may trust 
Bianca — yourself no wit, or these no rhetoric. 

[Pointing to the hags, etc. 

Fies. Once more, 'tis done, as sure as fate had sealed 
it ! And if Pansa has wrought up Bianca, as I once 
designed it, you'll say 't yourself. [He leads her off. 



324 belphegor. 

Scene iv. 

MoNTALTo's House. 
Enter Pansa and Bianca. 

Pan. They're all abroad, then % 

Bian. Whether they are or not, you're out of hear- 
ing. But what does your master mean by all this % 
I overheard them when he was last here ; but never 
let him look to come again. 

Pan. Not without thee, Bianca. 

Bian. I've had enough of it already — my lady has 
not given me a good look ever since. 

Pan. Patience, my beloved ! time and patience 

Bian. Will do no good with her. Besides, you men 
are so inconstant ; if ye had your wish to-day, you'd 
have another to-morrow. 

Pan. And are not you women the same — as fond 
of an old sweetheart as a brisk widow of her third 
husband 1 

Bian. E'en thank yourselves that taught us. 

Pan. Sick of everything but a new face. 

Bian. Your own picture to a hair. 

Pan. And so fickle, fickle, fickle — a man knows 
not where to have ye. 

Bian. Beshrew me, now, but that's a fib ! where to 
have you 's the question — once fill your belly, and 
ye drop off. 

Pan. And there, I must confess, you have the 
'vantage ; you stick the closer. And perhaps, though 
I spake too soon, what have we got here 1 

[He strokes her stomacher. 

Bian. Nothing of your's, I'll secure ye. I shall be 
married a Tuesday next. 

Pan. StiU my good merry girl ! But say he find 
it? 

Bian. You men think you have all the wit, but I 
can tell ye some women come two, three, four, and 



BELPHEGOR. 325 

sometimes five months sooner than ordinary of the 
first child ; but for the rest as right as others. You're 
all for nine months at least, but I have known a 
nimble fellow not married above eight weeks and his 
mfe has brought him a couple — and so like the father, 
too ! 

Pan. Still the same merry rogue 1 

Bian. But hark ye, tho' — where are the books you 
promised me ? — I can't sleep for thinking of 'em. 

Pan. And thou shalt have them in a day or two. 

Bian. what a dainty thing it is to see a man 
here to-day and a thousand miles off to-morrow ! — 
mow giants by the waist, conquer armies, overrun 
kingdoms, and all for the love of some distressed 
princess he never saw ; whilst she, poor lady, appre- 
hending it by instinct, sits bemoaning him in some 
castle grate, and, if she can borrow so much leisure 
from her grief, records his doughty deeds to posterity 
in window cushions and coverlets. 

Pan. And then, when, over the heads of forty or 
fifty thousand men, all slain by his own hand, he cuts 
his way to her chamber, ! what sighs, looks, half 
words, and I know not what ! till, the lord of the 
castle having reinforced his guards, surprises him ere 
he can recover Morglay, and from his lady's arms 
conveys him to a dungeon, where he's fed with no- 
thing but horse biscuit and puddle water, till, being 
fortunately released by some enchanter, his friend, he's 
dropt in an unknown desert, whence, within three 
days, he becomes master of a great kingdom, and 
within four more by some private mark proves the 
rightful heir of 't. 

Bian. There were a man for me ! I hate your sots 
that turn hermits, and can live seven years together 
on nuts, blackberries, and acorns. They lovers ! O 
that I were a man, that I might ha' been a knight ! 
or, being as I am, some little odd princess. 

Pan. And I have much of thy humour about me ; 
for never had any man greater desire of wealth and 
command than myself, and that only to eat well, drink 



326 BELPHEGOR. 

lustick,* care for nothing, and have my flatterers as 
other men. But come, Bianca! though I cannot make 
thee a princess, I can put thee in the way shall make 
thee as fine as a princess. Two hundred pistoles 
would do no hurt, I take it. 

Bian. Ay, marry ! but where's the money 1 

Pan. Thy master now and then lies at his country 
house, and, do thou but give my master the oppor- 
tunity of getting into your lady's apartment some 
such night, and I'll secure it thee. 

Bian. To what purpose ? I'm sure he will do no 
good. 

Pan. Do thou thy part, he'll venture that; — ^two 
hundred pistoles is money. 

Bian. And, truly, to speak my heart, I've often 
wonder' d how she can be so unkind. [She hugs him. 

Pan. Goodnature, thou must ! and, to let thee see 
he's in earnest, he has sent thee fifty in hand. — [Gives 
her a purse.'] — Come, come ! there are certain critical 
minutes when a woman can deny nothing. 

Bian. But shall I be sure of the rest ? 

Pan, If thou hast it not, never trust Pansa more ! 

Bian. Well, then, you speak in a lucky hour, for my 
master goes out of town to-morrow, and an hundred to 
one if he return that night. Let your master and you 
come about midnight, and you'll find the street door 
unlock'd, and me ready to receive ye. But be sure, 
now- 

Pan. That thou should'st doubt it ! 

[Exeunt hand in hand. 

* " Lustick, " according to Halliwell and others, means ' * healthy, 
cheerful, pleasant." The word does not appear as a noun. 



BELPHEGOR. 327 

Act iil^Scene i. 
Of EoDERiGo's House. » 

Enter Crispo and Mingo, wijping their faces. 

Oris. Here's a clutter, with all my heart ! Why, sure, 
this master of ours is either running mad, or never 
thinks of returning ! 

Min. Here was a palace as well furnish' d as the 
Duke's itself — such hangings, pictures, carpets, plate, 
and everything suitable ; but it seems they were not 
rich enough ! We're all new from top to bottom ! 

Oris. For my part, my back's almost broke with lug- 
gaging, and I think thine's not much better. Would 
'twere her neck that has been the cause of all ! 

Min, Yet what would not a man do that loves his 
wife-? 

Oris. Commend me to our old home ; we have no 
wives there. And I've observed here, those that so 
gild this pill of matrimony, to make it go down the 
easier, never take it themselves. 

Min. The truth is, neither of us need be fond of the 
sex. But every one is not our Imperia ! A wife, if 
you have money, will help to get more. 

Oris. Or rather spend what you have. 

Min. If you're at home, she'll bear you company. 

Oris. Or rather scold ye out of doors. 

Min, If you're abroad 

Oris. Perhaps cuckold ye ere ye come home ! But 
how now, Mingo, have ye forgot your knitting-needles? 

Min. Nor your trap-door— mere accidents ! 

Oris. I tell thee, brother of mine, a devil of clouts 
would ha' more wit ; and I'm afraid our master has 
spoil'd thee. 

Enter Eoderigo. 

Rod. So, so, ye have done well ; ye have done more 
in a few hours than a dozen lazy blockheads would 



328 BELPHEGOR. 

ha' done in a week. Yet, methinks, the rooms might 
have been better perfum'd ! 

Oris. We reserved that till last. 

Bod. Never the worse ! Is the music come 1 

Min. They only wait your call. 

Rod. Go, then, and be sure everything be in order ! 
[Exeunt Crispo and Mingo. 
My wife and I are friends again, and to confirm it 
I've promis'd her a ball, and can't but laugh to think 
how she'll be pleased with the preparations I have 
made for 't. She's but taking the air, and can't be 
long ere she return. 

Enter Imperia ; she runs to Mm. 

Imp. my dear ! and am not I a good wife, now ? 
That thou'dst been with us at Duke Doria's garden ! 
The pretty contest between Art and Nature. 
To see the wilderness, grots, arbours, ponds, 
And in the midst, over a stately fountain, 
The Neptune of the Ligurian Sea, 
Andrea Dorea, the man who first 
Taught Genoa not to serve ! Then to behold 
The curious waterworks and wanton streams 
Wind here and there, as if they had forgot 
Their errand to the sea. 

Rod. Thou set'st off this 

So well, I fancy thou'dst design a fairer. 

Imp. Dear husband, try ! And then, again, within 
That vast prodigious cage, to see the groves 
Of myrtle, orange, jessamine, beguile 
The winged choir into a native warble. 
And pride of their restraint. Then, up and down, 
An antiquated marble or broken statue, 
Majestic even in ruin ! 

Rod. It pleases me 

To see thee pleas'd ! 

Imp. And such a glorious palace ! 

Such pictures, carving, furniture ! my words 
Cannot reach half the splendour. And after all, 
To see the sea, fond of the goodly sight, 



BELPHEGOR. 329 

One while glide amorous and lick her walls, 
As who would say, Come, follow ! but, repulsed, 
Eally its whole artillery of waves. 
And crowd into a storm. But when, my dear. 
Will ye fancy me such a retirement ? 

Rod. When I, like him that rais'd it, can command 
The spoils o' th' rifled ocean, thou shalt ! 

Imp. Thou'st ever a fetch for what thou'st no mind 
to ! How can a woman love ye ? 

Rod. Do but consider ; the house we now live in is 
little inferior to a palace, and might become my better. 

Imp. A mere hole ! and that so damp, musty, and 
raw ! 

Rod. You ne'er complain'd of it before. However, 
fire and perfumes will rectify the air. 

Imp. Yes, to put a woman into fits ! 

Rod. Bating that palace, there's not a house in 
Genoa better ftirnish'd ! and, for pictures, I dare almost 
vie Italy ! Come, and I'll show thee ! 

[He offers to lead her out. 

Imp. What, those in the gallery % I saw 'em as I 
came in : mere sign-post work ! 

Rod. How ! Titian's Yenus sign-post work 1 

Imp. A downright country Joan ! 

Rod. Eaphael's Paris and the three goddesses 1 

Imp. A bumpkin and his milkmaids ! 

Rod. What think'st thou, then, of Guido Rheni's 
Rape of Lucrece 1 — Michael Angelo's Leda *? — or Cor- 
regio's Jupiter and Semele 1 

Imp. Enough to make a modest woman look through 
her fingers ! 

Rod. Would'st thou have nobler actions ? What 
say'st thou to Carrachio's Perseus and Andromeda % — 
Pietro Testa's Iphigenia "? — or Mola's Curtius ? 

Imp. What Mr. Dawber pleases. 

Rod. Or, if thou lik'st hunting, there's Tempesta's 
Acteon ! 

Imp. E'en keep it to yourself ! For my part, I would 
not put such an afiront on my friends as to have them 
seen in my house. Pictures, d'ye call 'em ] 



330 BELPHEGOR. 

Enter Crispo. 

Cris. Sir, the company are now lighting at door ! 

Imp. And why not madam, saucebox % — [She strikes 

i.] — Your servants must disrespect me too ! En- 
tertain them yourself for me. 

[She is running off; he stops her. 

Rod. Nay, wife, my dear wife ! what will our friends 
say ? For thy own sake, if not mine, be civil ! 

[She presses to go off. 

Imp. Say what they will, shall I humour a husband 
that can deny me anything ] You'd as good let me 
go, or I'll spoil all. Let me go, I say ! 

Rod. Thou shalt have anything. Here, take the 
keys of all I have, and please thyself! 

[She takes them grumbling. 

Imp. You can make me do what you please, that 
ye can. 

Rod. I'll wait upon our friends ! 

Enter Persons in masquerade. 

Known or unknown, be pleas'd ! 

[TheT/ seat themselves; music begins. 
Do but observe this air ! — [to Imperia.] 

[A dance of all but Roderigo and Imperia. 
Imp. Scraping, you mean ! I'd 've made as good on 
a gridiron. 

Rod. Softly, my dear ! 

[The dance ends ; they seat again. 
Imp. And such a stringhalt dance. 

[After a small interval, another music. 

Enter a Boy. 
He sings. 

Were I to take wife, 

As 'tis for my life. 
She should be brisk, pleasant, and merry ; 

A lovely fine brown, 

A face all her own. 
With a lip red and round as a cherry. - 



BELPHEGOR. 331 

Not much of the wise, 

Less of the precise, 
Nor over reserv'd, nor yet flying ; 

Hard breasts, a straight back. 

An eye full and black. 
But languishing as she were dying. 

And then for her dress, 

Be 't more or be 't less. 
Not tawdry set out nor yet meanly ; 

And one thing beside, 

Just, just so much pride 
As may serve to keep honest and cleanly. 

Imp. Whoo — ho — ho — hoo ! here's a voice and a 
song ! I thank ye. — [A noise within, as of some dishes 
breaking.] — You'd have you can't tell what ! 

Enter Quartilla. 

Qiia. O madam ! your monkey has got into the next 
room, and overturn'd all your cupboard of china ! 

[She runs off in a fury. 

Imp. Or I had done 't myself, to spite my Don. 

[Exit. 

Rod. I beseech ye, gentlemen, let this make no dis- 
turbance. I hope you'll take share of a short regale ! 

Omnes. Alas, poor Roderigo ! 

[Exeunt maskers; manet Eoderigo. 

Rod. Poor, henpecked devil, they might have said ! 
The very boys will pelt me ! — [He walks.] — But is this 
Belphegor? this the once GeneraHssimo ] Yes — \he 
makes a shrug] — but subjected to all the conditions of 
humanity; and I must be contented as well as others, 
at least till I get my keys again ; for, to say truth, my 
ships are longer out than was expected, and bills come 
thick upon me. Some of them, too, begin to be im- 
portunate ! My comfort is, they're three rich cargoes, 
and any one's return will pay for all. [Exit. 



332 belphegor. 

Scene ii. 

Of MoNTALTo's hmse. 

Enter Pansa with a dark lantern, conducting FiESCHi. 

Pan. She's as good as her word ! The door was 
unlocked ! 

Fies. And I may trust her ? 

Pan. My life ye may ! for she ever made it a matter 
of conscience to take a gentleman's money and do 
nothing for 't. 

Enter Bianca. 

Bian. What shall we do, sir 1 Our master's return'd, 
but in his own apartment. Consider ! 

Fies. It must be, and why not now ? 

Bian. Then follow me close and softly ! and do you, 
Pansa, stay here till I return. 

[Exeunt Bianca and Fieschi. 

Pan. And if it hits, I'm made ; and who knows but 
I may marry the jade myself for all her Tuesday next % 

but — but what? To be a cuckold ! And how many 
are there in the world yet live contentedly % But — 
your own cuckold — forestal the market — antedate your 
own fortune ! and what of that % I am not the first 
has done 't, and sha'n't be the last. This I am sure, 

1 am the less deceiv'd. Whate'er it be, two hundred 
pistoles and my master's kindness will make amends 
for all. 

Bianca returns. 

Now, Bianca, I was thinking, what if thou and I should 
join jiblets in an honourable way ] What think ye of 
matrimony, Bianca 1 

Bian. No, Pansa, no ! for though I love ye well 
enough, you shall never twit me with anything of 
your own knowledge ; but for old acquaintance, I'll 
recommend ye. She is — — 



BELPHEGOR. 333 

PaTL The very mop of modesty ! But what has 
she? 

Bian. Enough for you, and to spare. The truth is, 
not above sixteen or seventeen thousand ducats ready 
money, and as much more after the death of her 
grannum. But, for virtue ! 

Pan. The Lord knows what ! But say she won't 
ha' me ? 

BioM. I'll put in a good word for ye. This for your 
comfort j she'll sip Verdua — ^privately, though — and 
then, so good-natur'd. 

Pan. That's half the work ; for I never knew the 
devil at one end but his dam was at t'other. 

\A noise within as of a falling down-stairs. 

Bian. Here, Pansa, here ! — \_Slie pjits Mm in a closet, 
takes his lantern, and exit by one door. 

■ Brder Fieschi, running, by another. He falls, and 
drops his dagger. 

Fies. Where am I ? Blind fortune assist my blinder 

self! [He recovers, and exit hy the door he first came in 

at. BiANCA peeps in with her dark lantern, 

sees tlie dagger, takes it up, and gives loth to 

Pansa, then likewise peeping. 

Bian. There ! bolt the door t'ye, while I look out 

another way. \Exit. 

Enter Montalto loith a case of pistols, in his nightgown, 
hy the same dom' Fieschi ran in at. 

Mon. The last noise lay this way. Within there, 
ho ! — [He knocks.'] — What's here ? Methinks I see a 
faint glimmering of a light within that closet. — [He 
endeavours to open the door.] — Bolted within, too'? Nay, 
then ! — [He fires at the doa)% Pansa slips the bolt, glares 
him in the face with his dark lantern. Mon- 
talto fires at him and closes with him. Both 
fall. Pansa stabs him, and by that means 
gets from him, but not without tlie loss of his 
dagger. Exit Pansa by the same door as his 
master. Montalto rises. 



334 BELPHEGOR. 

Enter Servants, with lights and swords, undressed. 

1 Ser. Thieves, thieves ! Waken my lord ! he may 
be kiird in's bed. 

2 Ser. Hold ! there he stands ! He bleeds ! A 
handkerchief, to keep the wound from air ! 

Mon. What needs this noise ? One of ye stay with 
me, another get me a chirurgeon. 

3 Ser. I run, I run ! \Exit. 
Mon. The rest look about the house ! 'tis almost 

impossible he should escape. 

3 Servant returns, 

3 Ser. The street door, my lord, is open. 

[He runs off again. 
Mon. Nay, then, the bird is flown. However, see 
what servants are wanting or out of bed. That men 
knew when to put on arms ! 

[1 Servant sees a dagger on the floor, takes it up, 
and gives it Montalto. He starts. 

1 Ser. Here's some one's bloody dagger. 
Mon. And I know whose ; I gave it him. 

That was unkind. [He throws it carelessly. 

Enter Portia, in a nightgown. 

Por. My husband bloody ! What have I done, good 
heaven 1 Now pity me, and press me not with more 
than I can bear, or give me strength. 

[She staggers ; 1 Servant supports her. 
Mon. Do not thou stab me too ! 

[Montalto hreahs from the other. 
'Tis but a scratch, and thy Montalto lives. 
Stay ! stay, my Portia ! — yet one minute stay. 
And take me with thee ! 

[He runs to take the dagger ; 2 Servant prevents him. 

2 Ser. She begins to stir, sir ! 

[Montalto runs to her and shakes her. 
Mon. Eeturn — ^return ! At least but give an eye. 
And see who calls thee back ! 

Por. My hovering soul 



BELPHEGOR. 335 

Was on the wing, and nothing but that voice 
Had check'd its flight. 

Man. Do not torment thyself ; 

Thou may'st accuse, but canst not alter fate. 
Heav n, earth, all things have their period. 

Fa)\ But Portia has resolv'd she will be Portia 
In not surviving you. 

Mon. Eespite till then. 

Ev'ry wound is not mortal ; or, if 'twere, 
Who comes to his last period dies old. 
If I've liv'd well, it's enough ; if Ul, too long. 
Life's measur'd not by years but actions. 

Foi\ But to be thus rent from me ! 

Mon. If I must leave the town, what matter is 't 
What port I go out at ? or which way I die ? 
Death has a thousand roads, but all of them 
Meet at the journey's end ! How happy, then, 
Is man, that he can neither lose his way 
Nor pass it twice. 

3 Servant returns. 

3 Ser. The chirurgeons, sir, are coming ! 

Mon. Bring them into the next room ! Come, my 
dear; I hope there's no danger. However, happen 
what will, it sha'n't surprise me. [Exeunt. 



Scene hi. 

RoDERiGo's hmse. 

Enter Roderigo, with letters in his hand. 

Rod. 'Tis what I feared ! My Levant merchant 
taken by the Turks, my Frenchman sunk at sea, my 
Spaniard lost at dice, and, what's worse, my credit is 
at stake, my cash in my wife's hand ; and if she prove 
cross, there's no more to be said — I must break. 



336 BELPHEGOR. 

To him Don Hercio. 

Her. I am a gentleman, sir, and the King's no more. 

[He struts. 

Rod. Heaven maintain it, sir. 

Her. Maintain me ! I have an estate somewhere 
beyond the mountains in my own country, and where 
a pigeon-house once stood ; which, were it standing, — 
as it is now fall'n, — well stock'd with pigeons, and 
removed to Madrid, might be worth to me a brace of 
thousand maravedis yearly ! 

Rod. That is to say, about twenty shillings Eng- 
lish. 

Her. Maintain me ! \Cocks and struts. 

Rod. Your pardon, sir. 

Her. Yet think it no dishonour to converse with our 
Jews in black hats here. Somewhat below me, I must 
confess, but I am now and then serviceable to 'em, 
and they thank me. 

Rod. I remember ye, sir. Your commands to me 1 

Her. That's as you please. You are, signior, a man 
of fortune, which makes them envy you. In short, 
'tis given out your ships are miscarried ; and now, one 
taxes this, another that, a third your cattamountain, 
my relation, your lady ! 

Rod. Alas, poor fool ! must she suffer too 1 

Her. I was once about to have made them eat their 
words j but prudence, as sometimes it should, inter- 
pos'd. Upon the whole, if you pay 'em not forty 
thousand ducats, you'll be arrested ere night. 

Rod. Neither my ships nor that will much affect me. 

Her. The more's my joy. But since they are such 
scoundrels, name me the man ye do but doubt, and 
— ^he's dead ! 

Rod. By no means, signior. However, as an ac- 
knowledgment of your respect, be pleased 

[He gives him a small purse. 

Her. I beseech ye, sir — ^what d'ye mean 1 — nay — 
[hut takes it.'] — Now could I quarrel you myself in 
that you dare not trust my honour ; but I can take 



BELPHEGOR. 337 

nothing ill from so noble a patron, and when you have 
any such occasion, let me oblige ye. [Exit. 

Bod. Her relation, he said ! — A worthy one ! And 
yet it may be true as he says ; and who knows but 
he might be sent to set me ? My last comfort is, I 
have cash enough in the house, but the keys of it 
hang at my wife's girdle. 

Enter Imperia. 

Never more welcome, tho' to unwelcome news ! 

Imp. Your ships, you mean ? 'Tis everywhere ! 

Bod. I'm happy yet in such a partner of my cares ; 
all will do well again. Lend me thy keys ! 

Imp. For what, I ms' 1 — Your wife, it seems, is not 
fit to be trusted ? 

Bod. Thou knowest the contrary ; — but I have some 
bills charged on me that require speedy payment, or 
they'll be protested ; and then, where am 1 1 

Imp. Ev'n where you please; but keys you get 
none of me — the fool has more wit. 

Bod. I shall be ruin'd else. 

Imp. Better you than I — she'll pro^dde for one. 

Bod. I have enough to bear forty such losses. 

Imp. Yes, in your great iron chest. Away, you 
pitiful Don ! — With what face could ye cheat me 
with a parcel of stones and brickbats instead of coin ? 
Was this the treiasure — these the doubloons ye talk'd 
of? 

Bod. I tell thee, woman, 'tis all good silver ; and 
more gold than the best of thy family thou so much 
tattlest e'er saw together. 

Imp. My family, gentleman 1 I was finely hope 
up, when all the pride of Italy courted me, to marry 
a Tramontane, a beggarly Don, — Don Roderigo 
Castiliano, the first of his house and the last of his 
name ! — blot my blood with your damn'd Morisco ! 
That Moletto face might have forewarn'd me. But 
alas ! poor me — I loved ! [She puts finger in eye. 

Bod. Thou hast a prince incognito in me. 

Imp. The devil I have ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
Y 



338 BELPHEGGR. 

Bod. Provoke me not, for fear thou find'st me such. 

Imp. And what would my poor pug % I have a 
charm shall lay ye, good sir devil— a circle shall cool 
your courage. 

Bod. Give me my keys, I say ! 

Enter a Woman with a bandbox. 
How now 1 who's this ] 

Imp. Who should she be 1 — my tire-woman ! She 
brings me knots, gloves, ribbons, points, everything. 

Bod. And now and then a letter in the bottom o' th' 
box. — [He puts his hand in the box, finds a letter, she 
snatches it from him, and throws it back ; the tire-woman 
takes it up, and exit running.] — ^Mighty fine ! And 
from whom, I pray '? 

Imp. What's that to you? Jealous ! o' my conscience, 
jealous ! I see a mousled hood, rumpled tippet, or 
tumbled petticoat would not down with you ! — my 
Lord Dick or my Lord Tom stick in your stomach. 
Jealous, my life! jealous! Know, Tramontane, 
jealousy is the effect of weakness ; whereas he that's 
virtuous himself believes the same of another. 

Bod. Give me my keys, I say again, and that 
letter ! or [He takes her by the sleeve. 

Imp. But shall I have 'em again 1 

Bod. Upon my honour, thou shalt ! I'll only take 
what will serve my present occasion. 

Imp. Shall I indeed. La ? — [She embraces him.] — And 
will ye never be angry with your wife again 1 

Bod. All, all's forgotten. 

Imp. Well, then, I'll try for once. — [She whips out 
his sword and beats him about the stage; and as she hears 
company entering, she drops the sword and takes to her hand- 
kerchief.] — Murder ! murder ! help ! murder ! 

Enter five or six women. 

Sure all women ha'n't such husbands. 

1 Worn. Now, fie upon him for a villain ! — ^beat 
his wife 1 

2 Worn. Draw upon a woman 1 



BELPHEGOH. 339 

Rod. Do but hear me ! 

3 Wmn. That were wise work indeed. — [Third 
woman takes up the sword; all fall upon him, 
and beat him down, and having well pommelled 
him, they go up to Imperia and exeunt with her, 
EoDERiGO rises. 
Omnes. I hope you are not hurt — \to Imperia.] 
Rod. Nor all men, sure, such wives. What shall I 
do ? Debts threaten me abroad — my wife's at home ; 
stay here I cannot, and return I dare not. — \Re 
walls.'] — ^And live with her ten years, if possible, — 
that blest parenthesis, if possible ! 
But yet, to fall thus tamely^ — be outwitted, 
And by a woman ! By the drowsy Lethe, 
Cocytus, Acheron, or whatever worse 
Than fables ever feign'd or fear conceived, 
I'll make her know me better — make her know 
What an Italianated devil can do. \He gives a stamp. 
Ho ! Sacrapant ! Adramelech ! 

Enter Servant with a letter. 

Ser. I am told, sir, it requires no answer. 

[Exit Servant. He reads. 
Rod. ^'Your house is beset with bailiffs — consult 
your safety — haste, if you're wise." How I command, 
how the dull slaves obey ! 

[Another stamp. A hollow voice between the scenes. 
Voice. What would Belphegor 1 
Rod. Attend me without ! What shall a poor devil 
do 1 — but — might not friends take up the matter 1 — 
yes — and your house beset. I'd come to any terms, 
but the letter said haste. I have a loophole yet — 
but never more to maintain my figure. Haste was 
the word ; but must I leave thee 1 I will yet stand 
it — men and their wives have quarrell'd and been 
friends again. — [A noise, as of the clatter of a door, is 
heard within. He starts, runs his head against 
the wall, recovers, and exit. 
They're got into the house. 
The best of 't is, I have not far to go. 



340 BELPHEGOR. 

Scene iv. 

A street. 

Enter Crispo and Mingo, hy cross doors. They meet, 
jostle, and lay their hands to their swords. 

Min. Signior Crispo ? Mio multo illustre ! 

\They make their drunken scrapes, and embrace. 

Oris. Min' here Mingo 1 Vostre tres humble. That 
comrades should know one another no better ! 

Min. And which becomes us least of all others — us, 
that should unite against the common enemy, mankind. 

Oris. Thou'rt right. And now, that we're pot- 
valiant, what think'st thou of a frolic 1 

Min. And kill the next we meet. 

Cris. My very thought. A match ! — [They shake 
" .] — Our master will not hear of our return ; and, 
if I'm hang'd, 'tis what I would. 

3Iin. And better far than living under the dominion 
of this superdevilified Imperia. 

Cris. Poor Belphegor ! I have known him somewhat 
in my time, but now so sotted on her, he's not him- 
self ; and all this to please her that will be pleased 
with nothing. 

Min. How one may be mistaken ! I remember, 
while he courted her, almond-butter would not melt in 
her mouth — so innocent, she'd have blusht t'ave seen 
her own hand naked — and a voice so low, she could 
not hear herself But not three days married, ere, Kke 
an alarm clock, the house rang of her. 

Cris. I'm sure I bear her marks. Time was I could 
have bolted through a k^y-hole, cut capers on the 
point of a needle, giv'n the double somersault on a 
pin's head, felt no more blows than a sack of wool ; 
but now she 'as beaten me to mash. 

Min. And made me mere gut-founder' d. And I'm 
afraid, our master, return when he will, will make but 
a. ragged accompt of it. 



BELPHEGOR. 341 

Cr'is. My only hopes are, he'll be weary in time, and 
leave her behind him ; for if e'er she come among us 
below, we break up house for certain. 

Min. A lion, they say, runs from a cock ; and well 
may the devil from a crowing hen. 

Cris. I am glad to see this amendment, friend 
Mingo, and hope now you are not so matrimonially 
inclin'd as once you were. 

3fin. I tell thee, Crispo, I know not what to make 
of 'em. Some are so skittish, no ground will hold 
'em ; others so resty, one can bring 'em to nothing ; 
and others, again, like a rattle at a dog's tail, run 
where you will and it still follows ye. 

Cris. ^Tien all's done, there's nothing like an honest 
private friend ; and, between ourselves, I have such a 
piece. 

3Iin. As mine, I warrant ye — so loving ! 

Cris. So careful of her honour, yet so obliging ! 

Min. As if I did not know your old Flora — a mere 
rag of a jade ; I wonder thou durst venture on her, 
for fear of navel-gauHng. 

. Cris. And, I think, you have not much reason to 
brag of your greasy tripe- wife. For my part, I hate 
bog-trotting, 

Min. What need this reservedness among friends ] 
Upon honour now — who shall say first ? 

Cris. And wound reputation ! — fie ! 



Enter Marone and a large Watch. Crispo and 
MmGO run; the Watcb. follow. 

Mar. You may believe, neighbours, there's some- 
what more than ordinary that I am here in person. 
Every man would not have done 't. But see, who are 
those fellows running there 1 — follow, follow ! There 
is a dangerous plot now brewing, and I know who has 
a finger in it up to the elbow. Follow — follow 'em ! 

[Exeunt. 



34:2 BELPHEGOR. 



Scene v. 



Enter Mattheo and Eoderigo as in a vineyard; 
Mattheo a s^ade in his hand. 

Mat. I have heard of your quality and great losses 
— ^but your wife, say you ? Alas, poor gentleman ! I 
lost mine about a month since, and, tho' I have no 
great reason to brag, find a niiss of her. 

Bod. I'll change with ye — :my living wife for your 
dead wife. 

Mat. Not too much of that neither — ^I had one 
before, and she was well enough. But this last ! — 
such a^— 111 tread lightly on her grave, forfear she 



Bod. And what difference found ye between a good 
wife and a bad one 1 

Mat. I said not she was good, but well enough ; 
tho' I think the difference be much the same as 
between a wild rabbit and a tame rabbit. However, 
at last I found the way of beating the devil out of 
mine. 

Bod. And I should ha' thought there was more 
danger of beating him in. But, sir, you don't con- 
sider the catchpoles ; they follow upon a fresh scent. 
Do but preserve me from Jem, I'll make ye a man for 
ever. 

Mat. Nor shall you repent the putting yourself 
under my protection. Look ye, sir^[j3e takes him to 
the scenes.] — You see those parings of vines ! creep 
under them, and I'll cover ye up. — [Eoderigo creeps^ 
IVIattheo covers him.] — -When they are gone, I'll give 
you notice. A handsome fellow, and wears good 
clothes ! If it miscarry, I have little to lose ; and if 
it succeed, I'm made for ever. 

Enter OmCERS; tJiey heat about. 

Pray, gentlemen, don't trample my vines. Who are 
ye? 



BELPHEGOR. 343 

1 Off. We are the State's officers, in quest of a 
gentleman we are sure took this road. 

2 Off. And cannot be far behind him. At your 
peril be it if you conceal him. 

Mat. My house is open to ye* 

3 Officer enters ; Mattheo digs. 

1 Off. Prithee be honest to us, and thou shalt snack. 

2 Off. We can afford him forty ducats — and that's 
more than thou'lt get in haste by digging. 

Mat. Forty ducats, gentlemen, would do me a 
kindness. 

1 Off. And if we take him I'll be thy paymaster — 
I'm sure thou knowest me — and I'll be true to thee. 

\He gives his hand. 

Mat. Signior Bricone, if I mistake not ? 

1 Off. Thou hast me right, and therefore doubt not 
thy money. 

Mat. Well, then, he is 

[Mattheo describes Eoderigo's person and clothes. 

2 Off. The same — and if he's about thy house, show 
him us, and here's thy money down. 

[He pulls out a hag. Third officer returns. 
■ 3 Off. There's nothing within ! 

Mat. I rather wish he were ; but d'ye see that blind 
road, on the left hand of my vineyard as ye came ? 

1 Off. And were I to have fled for my life, I'd have 
taken 't myself. 

Mat. There did I see such a person, and one other 
with him, ride by about an hour since. And now I 
better consider on 't, he was the great merchant that 
lost some ships t'other day. 

Omnes. The same, the same ! — ^to horse, to horse ! 

Mat. Ride hard, and ye can't but overtake him. 

\Exeunt Officers, nmm'w^. 
They're gone, and Eoderigo's wishes follow 'em. He 
told me he'd make me a man for ever, and I hope 
he'll be as good as his word, and not lick himself 
whole again by non-performance. Ho, Signior ! the 
coast is clear ; you may advance. 



344 BELPHEGOR. 



Enter Roderigo, stalking and looking about him. 

Rod. I fancy I hear them still — hark ! what was 
that ? 

Mat. Nothing but the wind among the leaves. I 
have perform'd my promise, and you're safe, tho', if 
you overheard us, — as you needs must, — to my disad- 
vantage. 

Rod. I did, and doubly thank you ; nor shall it ever 
be said that I forgot mine. But first, 'tis requisite 
that you understand my condition. Know, then, I am 
not what I appear to you — but, in few words, a very 
devil. 

Mat. A devil ! — [Mattheo starts\ — and afraid of 
bailiffs ? 

Bod. Yet so it is. I was sent to earth by special 
command, subject, nevertheless, to all the conditions 
of humanity, but more particularly oblig'd to marry a 
wife. 

Mat. Keep your wife to yourself; I have no mind 
to cuckold the devil. 

Bod. And now, what with her insulting, peevish 
humour, my losses at sea, my correspondence failing, 
and creditors pressing, you see to what condition I'm 
brought. 

Mat. Is't come to this 1 The sham won't pass on 
me. Come, come — uncase ! — [Mattheo goes about to 
strip him.] — A man for ever ! A devil would ha' been 
more honest. 

Bod. Have but a minute's patience, and if I don't 
convince you of what I told ye, and you don't find me 
the most ingenuous, grateful, and as gentleman-like a 
devil as you could wish, I am contented you deliver 
me up to my creditors. And, without your consent, 
part from ye I will not. 

Mat. 'Tis civil, tho'. [Eoderigo gives a stamp. 

Bod. Ho ! Sacrapant, Adrameleck, Paganuccio, 
Fortibrand ! — [Music is heard, spirits rise ; they dance 
an antic about Mattheo, and exeunt, Mattheo all the 
while trembling.] — Fear nothing ! they sha'n't hurt ye. 



BELPHEGOR. 345 

Mat Fear nothing, said ye ? I'm not yet secure 
but my soul may slip out at the wrong end. 

Bed. I've shown you what I am ; and now consider, 
what devil of a thousand would not such circum- 
stances have tried % But to my promise ! — [A noise 
ivithin ; he starts.] — Huisht, huisht ! — My wife ! — that 
wife, whom now I dread more than ere I doated on 
her. 

3Iat. A tittle-tattle of mine ; I know her voice ! 

Mod. My promise, I was saying. You know the 
Lady Ambrosia ? 

Mat. And what of her ? She's rich ; and do you 
but make a match for me there, I'll release you your 
promise. 

Hod. I am no go-between ; but this I'll do — as soon 
as I leave this place I'll instantly possess her, and, on 
the faith of an oblig'd devil, will never leave her till 
you come and force me from my quarters. And so, 
you know how to make the terms. 

Mat. But which way must I go about it ? 

Bod. Sputter anything, and that shall do't ; and 
besides, good brisk nonsense, with a little balderdash, 
and the gravity of a graduated goose to set it off, will 
give ye the vogue among the greater number, who, 
like Socrates' children, take more after the mother 
than the father. 

Mat. My noble patron, I see you are in earnest ; 
and, because you and I must be better acquainted, 
your name, I beseech ye, and quality in the other 
world 1 

Bod. Belphegor, Generalissimo of the Subterranean 
Forces; but this condition of humanity has so dis- 
compos'd me, that I'm asham'd to own what I was. 

3fat. Generalissimo ! A friend at court may, if he 
please, stand a man in stead. But pray, sir, what do 
ye do below 1 

Rod. Much after the rate ye do here — ever speak- 
ing well of ourselves and ill of others. And for 
friendship, as we profess not much, for what we do 
we observe it as little as yourselves. 



346 BELPHEGOR. 



A wise people ! But how do men get thither? 
Have ye no standing porters to attend the service ? 

i^od By no means I no man comes thither but of 
himself, or his wife's sending. I won't deny but 
when a devil meets a man with his skates on he may 
give him a push forward. But, I'm uneasy ! 

[He looks over his shoulder. 

Mat There's no danger. What kind of people are 
ye? 

Bod. A hotch-potch of all tongues, nations, and 
languages. We speak the Lingua Franca, keep open 
house, and never shut our gates to any that had 
either wit or money ; and that's the reason we have so 
many wits and usurers among us. 

Mat And no women? — for, notwithstanding all, I 
am no profess' d enemy to the sex. 

Eod, They're the best customers we have; they 
seldom come alone with their own lading. Some 
bring more, some less ; not one in ten without a liver 
and a gizzard— two friends at least, besides followers. 

Mat But have ye no divines, physicians, lawyers ? 
What have ye? 

Bod. Of that, when we meet next. 

Mat And you'll forget, you will. 

Bod. Upon parole, I won't. — [They shake hands.'] — 
With this further — whenever you hear of any lady 
possess'd, be sure it is your humble servant, and no 
other. [Exeunt severally. 



Act IV. — Scene i. 

Of EoDERiGo's house. 

Enter Imperia, Quartilla, and Scintilla. 

Imp. Our gentleman, it seems, is gone to take the 

air, and I can look about me now, without asking leave. 

Quar. He took so little with him, I wonder we hear 



BELPHEGOR. 347 

nothing of him ; his proud spirit •will come down in 
time. 

Scin. But to run away in such a hurry ! 

Imp. That last note I sent him did the business. 

Scin. What made a gentleman of his wealth and 
credit go off so soon ? 

Imp. I was privy to none of his actions ; however, 
so foresaw it as to secure his estate to myself 

Scin. And with your ladyship's leave, are you not 
bound in honour to set him up again ? 

Quar. If I thought he might not be troublesome, I'd 
persuade my lady to take him home again, and keep 
him in pocket money, for her own credit. 

Imp. No, no ! I'd better remove privately, and secure 
what I have ; and that the rather, for if ever I heard 
anything in my life, I heard his tread in my chamber 
last night. 

Scin. So have I fancied a man in bed with me, but 
when all came to all, 'twas nothing but a nightmare. 
However, madam, remove where you will, a man is 
some credit to a house, and ours, methinks, seems 
naked without him. 

Quar. These girls never consider ; we should have 
him rummaging the next bandbox again. 

Imp. Oh, thou rememb'rest me! — [She takes out a 
letter hroJcen open. Reads.'] — " Terrachina ! The thousand 
crowns I formerly presented your ladyship emboldens 
me" — ha, ha, ha ! my Lord Lack-land! There! — 
[She throws away the letter.'] — Tell her that brought it I 
have forgot the token, and he must send it again, or 't 
won't do. [QuARTiLLA takes up the letter. 

Quar. Now, out upon him ! Had he the impudence 
to believe other 1 No, madam, you have it seven years 
yet good to take; and after that, you may truck, 
barter, or, at worst, give. 

Enter Fieschi. Imperia hecJcons them off. Exeunt 
QuARTiLLA and Scintilla. 

Imp. Ye may keep within call. And now, Fieschi, 
we have no more excuses, sure ? And how 1 — was my 



348 BELPHEGOR. 

sister complaisant ? Has good nature yet brought her 
about 1 

Fies. Judge of me as you think I deserve. I had 
found all open approaches as troublesome as fruitless, 
and therefore resolv'd on stratagem. To this purpose, 
I folio w'd the hint you gave me, and engag'd her 
woman to give me the opportunity of getting into her 
apartment, which not many nights since I attempted ; 
and, tho' no one knew the house better than myself, 
yet being in the dark, it was my misfortune to mis- 
take his apartment for hers. Montalto heard me, and 
sprang out ! I, as well I might, fled, and by another 
mistake fell down-stairs ; he pursu'd ! I recover'd the 
fall, and got off. 

Imj). As, to give ye your due, you had ever the dis- 
cretion to save one. 

Fies. I thank your ladyship ! In short, my servant, 
endeavouring to make up with me, engaged Montalto, 
wounded him, and got off himself; and, I know not 
by what accident, is since taken, or you might have 
been sure I'd waited on you sooner. 

Imp. Would thou wer't in his room ! A pretty 
story ! — and I believe 't 1 No, thou silly nothing ! 
'Twas thou that hired'st thy servant to kill Montalto, 
to make room for thyself You were there"? — The 
same was I. I've heard the story — a mere invention of 
your own, to excuse yourself and cheat me. 

Fies. You do me wrong; that my design miscarried 
is not my fault ! 

Imp. You might have laid it better ! 
Did I command ye to a night adventure ? 
I bid ye murder ? No ; my spotless honour 
Cannot be blasted by a villain's tongue ! 
Send me the jewels and the gold I lent ye, 
Or you will rue the time that I send for 'em ! 
And so, as far as honour, still command me ; 
Further than that, your humble servant ! 

[Exit Imperia. 

Fies. Hey day ! — perfidious woman ! and I the fool, 
To think there ever was or could be other. 



BELPHEGOR. 349 

How, like Egyptian temples, do they at distance 
Strike reverence and admiration ! 
How beautiful ! how glorious ! Approach 'em, 
And view the god — you find a cat, or ape, 
A weeping crocodile, or perhaps a goat ! 
Forgive me, virtue, but a just revenge. 
And I'll abjure — that fair defect of nature — 
The very sex, and never think on 't more. 
But as men do of debts and sins, to curse 'em ! 

[Stamps. 
And now for that revenge. My servant's in hold, 
and I know not how soon it may be my turn, but 
that I think him honest, and Montalto, as 'tis said, 
in no great danger. Help me, invention ! 

Enter Quartilla, 

I have it ! 

Qiia. I thought my lady had call'd ; however, I am 
glad to see your worship so well. I have often tasted 
of your bounty, and would be glad it were in my 
power to deserve it. 

Fies. Thou hast an honest face, and I ever found 
thee trusty. 

Qua. And shall, I hope, continue so. And for my 
face, 'tis all as you see ! — let them be beholden to 
slops that want 'em. 

Fies. Nay, there is somewhat in it; for Signior 
Guido is so concerned for thee, thou'lt scarce believe 
it. 

Qua. Indeed, sir ! I am beholden to him for his 
well- wishes ! 

Fies. ^Vhat wilt thou say, now, if I make it a match 
between ye ? 

Qua. Ha — ha — ha ! But how shall we live together'? 

Fies. He has an hundred ways of getting money, 
only, Hke other men, an hundred and fifty of spend- 
ing it, besides drinking ; but a wife will take him off 
that. 

Qua. And a -discreet woman will bear with a small 
fault. 



350 BELPHEGOR. 

Fies. Well, then, there is a small job which thou 
may'st and canst, if thou wilt, do for me ; and that 
once done, let me alone for thine. 

[He chucks her under the chin. 

Qua. And if I don't, never trust woman again, for 
my sake. 

Fies. Your lady— but thou'lt laugh — and I are all 
to pieces. 

Qua. Marry forbid it ! Why, I have known ye play 
together like two kittens, and as often told ye playing 
commonly ended in earnest. If that be all, I bring ye 
together again, and she'll love ye the better. 

Fies. To move it to her were to set her the farther 
oif. But thus — tell her there's an outlandish prince 
new come to town, and that he's so enamour'd of her 
that he intends her a rich damask bed and cupboard 
of plate, which he'll send in to-morrow, and wait on 
her himself at night ! Now, this prince will I per- 
sonate ; let me alone for the disguise. 

Qua. Impossible ! She stands upon her honour ! 
She receive a night visit, from a stranger, and by her 
own consent % Besides, your tongue will betray ye. 

Fies. Tell her the prince understands no Italian, 
and therefore she need not speak to him, nor take 
more notice of him than if he were her husband. 
And we shall have such laughing next morning. 
Come, thou must ! [He gives her money. 

Qua. What contrivances you men have to betray 
poor women ! Well, then, if you'll run the hazard, 
send in your present to-morrow, and come yourself 
at midnight; because we are to remove in a day or 
two, for she fancies the house is haunted. 

Fies. I'll venture that too ! only do thou thy part. 

Qua. You are resolved, and be it so ; in the mean 
time you shall see how I'll work her — we women 
can do much together. But I'd almost forgot — what's 
your prince's name ? 

Fies. II Principi Polacco ! 

Qua. Then say, and hold Polacco. You'll find me 
ready ! [Exit Qtjartilla. 



BELPHEGOK. 351 

Fies. "What fools a man must sometimes be beholden 
to ! And if I am not even with her ladyship, I'll 
forgive her. That once over, I will endeavour, by some 
worthy action, to expiate my past folly ! [Exit. 



Scene ii. 

Of EoDERiGo's House. 

Enter Marone, Imperia, and Quartilla. 

Imp. 'Twas a sad accident, and, I fear me, more 
than a bare chance ! I hear you took th' examina- 
tions 1 

3Iar. The friendship, madam, I ever ow'd your 
husband might have commanded more; the rest 
Signior Grimaldi has appointed to be taken here ! 

Imp. And what d' ye think 1 — was my poor sister 1 
I love her with my soul ! — Is there anything reaches 
her ? 

Mar. Directly nothing, but a single uncertain evi- 
dence — her servant Bianca. Tho', to deal freely with 
ye, I suspect it ; men of my station can see day at a 
little hole — letters make words, and circumstances 
things ! 

Imp. Alas ! alas ! tho' yet my private thoughts 
don't contradict ye. What would she have done had 
she had my beast 1 But he was my husband, and, the 
more unfortunate me, I lov'd him ! But pray, what 
ground have ye 1 

Mar. Enough, if not too much ! Montalto's estate — 
however, it went in my name — was dipped in the bank 
for thirty thousand ducats; Fieschi pays the money; 
his servant gave Montalto his wound ; and whether 
your sister and Fieschi were absolute strangers, I 
leave it to your ladyship. 

Imp. 1 am afraid y'ave gone too deep ! 

Mar. I'll not give a rush for that man that cannot 
pick anything out of nothing — at least bring it in by 



352 BELPHEGOR. 

an innuendo ! Men of business, madam, are not so 
much to seek as the world takes them. 

Imp. And, truly — I tremble while I speak it — I 
wish there was no design of taking off a husband, to 
make room for a gallant ! 

Mar. My conscience tells me y'ave hit the nail ! 

Im]). And shall I own that sister % Virtue forbid 
it! 

Enter Grimaldi and Portia. 

Grim. According to my appointment, I am come ! 
yet thought it not altogether unfit that this lady, who 
is most concern'd, should hear the matter. 

Mar. And pray, sir, how goes it with our friend 
Montalto ^ Is there no hope % 

Grim. Yes, truly; and, as far as I conjecture, the 
greatest danger of his wound lies in the chirurgeon's 
hard words. All of them agree it fortunately slanted 
on a rib. 

For. This worthy person inform'd me it was his 
desire the examinations might be taken here, which 
made me willing to come myself 

Imp. And that, perhaps, too soon for somebody's 
credit ! 

For. Whose e'er it be, I can hear it with more 
grief than trouble. 

Imp. Peradventure your own, or some one's else — 
who knows % 

Grim. I beseech you, madam — \to Imperia.] — What 
mean ye ? 

For. How ill this had become another ! 

Imp. If any modest woman might have resented an 
husband's injuries, I ought not to have sat down with 
Eoderigo's to me ; but when I consider'd he was my 
husband, that name soon covered all ; I pray'd no 
gallant's aid ! 

Grim. What's here 1 — ^The devil washing his face ! 
woman ! what can'st thou not ? [Aside. 

For. What virtuous woman ever did 1 

Imp. EecoUect yourself; I never doubted your wit ! 



BELPHEGOR. 35S 

For. Add patience to my innocence, good heaven I 

Grim. No more, I beseech ye ! and pray, sir, how 
d'ye find it % 

Mar. I met a person t'other night incognito, whom, 
not giving me a good account of himself, I committed: 
he's now without. 

Grim. And being informed that Bianca was found 
in her clothes at that late hour when this accident 
happen'd, I thought fit to examine her; and all I 
could get from her was, there were other-guise per- 
sons concern'd than thieves. I sent her t'ye. 

Mar. The same she says to me, and more. She's 
without too ! 

Grim. Let's have her in ! 

Mar. "Within, there ! bring in Bianca ! But were 't 
not convenient that Portia withdrew ? 

An Officer enters, and exit again. 
For. She can say nothing shall shame me to her. 

Returns with Bianca. 

Grim. Now, Bianca, you remember what you've said? 
Who were those other-guise persons % 

Bian. My lady will be angry ! 

Pot. Speak boldly, woman! Let truth come out, 
tho' I perish ! 

Bian. Fieschi and my lady had made an assig- 
nation, and I was privy to it. But it seems my 
master, sitting up later than ordinary, and Fieschi 
making some noise, my master rushed upon him, and 
in the scufile receiv'd that wound from him. 

Chrim. Fieschi ! I'll cut him from my blood ! 

Imp. My sister ! Her virtue, sure, knew better 
things ! 

Pot. And does, Imperia ! My innocence is above 
scandal. 

Grim. And no one with him but himself? 

Bian. Not that I saw or heard. 

Mar. Take her back again ! 

{Exeunt OFFICERS with Bianca. 



354 BELPHEGOR. 

The other, perhaps, may tell you more; I've kept 
them asunder, and neither knows of the other's being 
apprehended. 

Grim. It was discreetly manag'd; bring him in, 
Fieschi ! — Villain ! Whom shall a man put faith in ? 

Enter, ly another door, an Officer with Pansa. 

His servant, too ! What mischief, sirrah, have your 
master and you been contriving '? 

Pan. None, I yet hope ; however, come what will 
of me, I will declare the truth ! About three nights 
since, Bianca and I had appointed a meeting at her 
master's house. When stealing by his apartment, it 
was my misfortune to make a stumble ; he hears me 
— I fled I he pursued— I got into a closet ; he sees a 
glimpse of my lantern and fires thro' it — I got out 
and glar'd him in the face ; he fires a second pistol 
and closed with me, and having no other possibility 
of escaping, I was forc'd to that unfortunate stab, which 
yet I put not so home but that he wrench'd my 
dagger from me. 

Grim. This agrees word for word with what Montalto 
told me. I wish, tho', I could have seen the dagger ! 

Pan. It was my master's, who having left it care- 
lessly on his table, and I, considering there might be 
danger in the streets, put it in my pocket, and with 
that dagger made the blow ! 

Imjp. Where was your master 1 

Pan. Had he been there, it is not to be thought I'd 
take another's guilt upon myself ! 

Grim. This cloud will break by degrees, and I am 
glad we're got so far into 't. Take off" your prisoner ! 

Mar. Or rather, confront him with Bianca ! 

Grim. Well thought of ; bring her in again ! — [She 
is brought in again.] — You said ere while that you saw 
no one but Fieschi; and Pansa says 'twas himself 
only, and that by appointment between you two. 

Pan. By this token, that she, hearing the noise, put 
me into the closet, and bade me bolt it on the inside. 

[Bianca stutters. 



BELPHEGOR. 355 

Bian. If th'ast a mind to hang thyself, do. Yes, he 
was there, and I believe with a design of robbing the 
house ! 

Grim. Prithee, speak truth ! Whoever was there, 
did your lady know anything of it 1 

[She stands confused; at last kneels, 

Bian. Good madam, forgive me ; you're innocent 1 

[She howls. 

Grim. Take them away, and keep them severally ! 
[Exeunt Officers, with the prisoners. 

For. And now, sister, judge favourably of me — 
Poor me, whom nothing but a quiet conscience 
Had kept from sinking. This is the true joy. 
And this we give ourselves — this makes us bear 
A mind above our sex. Fortune may clear 
The visage ; only this can fill the soul ! 

Mar. Your servant, sir ! and occasion offers I'll wait 
on ye. [Exeunt Grimaldi, leading Portia, hy one 

door, Marone and Imperia by another, 
Manet Quartilla. 

Qua. And now, when all's done, Fieschi for my 
money ! He's scarce half rid of a surfeit and yet 
vent'ring on the same dish again. He has a passion 
for her, that's certain ; or otherwise, a love fit at this 
time were inexcusable ! Well, his present is sent in, 
and that so noble, I am afraid he does not intend to 
come often. 

Imperia re-enters. 

Imp. What's all that luggage in the other room 1 

Qua. A damask bed, with massy fringe and every- 
thing suitable ! — besides a rich cupboard of plate ! — 
and no other name for 't but luggage. I wish your 
ladyship had such another to-morrow, we'd find it 
house-room. 

Lnp. I must confess it noble ; but whence came it ? 

Qua. No Terrachino, I dare warrant ye. It is the 
humble present of the outlandish Prince new come 
to town, II Signior Principi Polacco ; your ladyship 
understands the rest. But did ye know how I en- 



356 BELPHEGOR. 

hanc'd the affair, — husband, relations, reputation, 
honour, and to all this your utter averseness, — ^you'd 
say I was no fool ! 

Imp. Is he handsome 1 

Qua. What matters that 1 — ^his present is. However, 
to satisfy ye, he's as handsome a man as the best of 
us need wish to lie boa,rd and board by ', for my part, 
I could sink by his side. 

Imp. When will he be here % 

Qua. At midnight, and you'll be asleep ! 

Imp. But to a man I never saw ! — how shall I look 
next morning ? 

Qua. Just as you did before ; or, you may, if you 
think fit, cry out your women has betray'd ye ; nobody 
will hear ye ! Tlio' yet, if ye should, he understands 
no Italian. 

Imp. Thou shalt supply my place — all petticoats 
are sisters in the dark. 

Qua. I would it were not to wrong your ladyship. 
Come, madam, no more words ! do you but leave him 
one side of your bed, he'll find the rest himself 

Imp. Well, we'll further consider it within. 

[Exeunt 



Scene hi. 

The Vineyard. 

Enter Mattheo, solus, in a Hack velvet coat; a tipped 

cane; turning up his moustaches, strutting, and 

viewing himself. 

It is the same ! of a better edition, tho' ; and truly, 
to give the devil his due, he has shown himself much 
a gentleman, which is more than I'll say of every 
man. I have already dislodg'd him from two great 
ladies ; and if it holds but one year, how shall I dis- 
pose of this good fortune ? My boy — an arrant crack- 
rope, father's own son — I'll breed him to my own new 



BELPHEGOR. 357 

trade, and send him abroad to take his degree ! My 
daughter — let me see, she shall marry some count or 
other ! 

Enter Grimaldi. 

But hold ! who knows but here may be another 
customer? and if so, I must stand off, to raise the 
price. [Aside. 

Grim. Our duke, sir, is so well assured of your more 
than ordinary faculty at exorcism, that the Lady 
Julia, a niece of ours, being at this time a demoniac, 
he sent me to pray your help, and further assure you 
of as large a reward as yourself could wish, or the 
obliging a prince may merit ! 

[Mattheo puts on a starched gravity. 

Mat. I shall be proud, signior, if my poor talent 
might contribute anything to his serenity's or your 
service. How far have you proceeded 1 

Grim. Tried all that religion or physic could pro- 
pose ! 

Mat. Have ye erected a scheme to know under 
what direction the lady lies, and what kind of devil 
it is that possesses her % 

Grim. I think not ! 

Mat. The reason I ask ye is, because there are 
diversities of devils, — some so easy, gentle, quiet, ye 
may do what ye will with 'em ; others, again, so 
sullen, refractory, cross-grain'd, that neither threats, 
enchantments, nor devotion itself will do any good 
on 'em. 

Grim. I leave it wholly to ye ! 

Mat. Then the first thing I'll do shall be to erect 
one, both as to the horary question and the matter 
itself j and, when I've done that, I'll make a step 
to the lady as incognito, and give ye my judgment 
of it. 

Grim. And credit me, it shall be gratefully acknow- 
ledg'd ! [Exit. 

Mat. So, so, here's more money coming ! A count, 
did I say 1 we'll better consider it. 



358 BELPHEGOR. 

Enter Eoderigo hehind Mm, and gives him a 
tap on the shoulder. 

Thy fist, my Mephistopliiles ! And what 1 — ^thou'st 
left the Lady Julia asleep to see a friend ? 

Rod. Thyself, thou mean'st ; but how cam'st thou 
to know it % 

Mat You see how I improve by your acquaintance ; 
'twas kindly done. And now your parole; what sort 
of people have ye in the other world % 

Rod. Whatnots 

Mat. Have ye any divines among ye ? 

Rod. Why, truly, we were once afraid of 'em, and 
were ever and anon making laws against 'em ; 'till at 
last, finding we were more afraid than hurt, we left 
them at their liberty to come or go. But for the school- 
men, we ever shackle them, for fear they make as 
much disturbance there as they have already done 
here. 

Mat. Any physicians 1 

Rod. And they, too, for several years together, had 
sent us so many on their errand that we grew jealous 
of them, as that they design'd a party; till, coming to 
a better understanding, we have ever since not denied 
'em house-room, for past services. 

Mat. Any lawyers % 

Rod. What should they do there ? The poor devils 
have no money, and the rich will part with none, and 
yet we want not their company too ; but alas ! let 
'em get what estate soever here, they bring not a 
groat with 'em, as not doubting but to raise another 
among us ; but there the case is alter'd. 

Mat. Have ye any poets ? 

Rod. Of pretenders, not the least number. And 
even there, too, some few who, regarding glory more 
than profit, in studying to divert others, slipped their 
opportunities and lost themselves. 

Mat. Have you any philosophers '? 

Rod. What — they sell hawks' bells and rattles ] 

Mat. The same. 



BELPHEGOR. 359 

Rod. We are with them like Rome of old with their 
figure-slingers, ever banishing 'em but never rid of 
'em ; however, we reckon them among the virtuosi 

Mat. What are those virtuosi ? 

Rod. They study nature — as why a fly should have 
six legs, and a dromedary but four ; why a cat when 
she's pleas'd holds her tail on end, and a dog wags 
his ; why crabs go backward, and the like. 

Mat. And very useful inquiries. What painters 
have ye % 

Rod. The truth is, we had once banished 'em for 
painting us more ugly than we are, till Michael 
Angelo's Day of Judgment complimented us with a 
Master of the Ceremonies ; and Parmasano and Car- 
rachi with their improvements upon Aretine, — pieces, 
I assure ye, of as much service to us, as their others 
of devotion had like to have done us mischief. 

Mat. But what becomes of tyrants and others, those 
common pests of mankind — a sort of men we read of 
in old story, though I think the race be wholly run 
out now % 

Rod. 'Twould make ye laugh to see 'em, — one 
cobbling of old shoes ; another heeling of stockings ; 
a third rubbing the sweat in hothouses. 

Mat. Have ye the pox there too 1 

Rod. Millions of millions; for they that bring it 
not with them are sure to get it on their first landing. 

Mat. Well, thou'rt a merry devil, and I must say 
an honest devil. But hark ye, I must beat up your 
quarters once more. 

Phod. What % — never have done % 

Mat. You know I deliver'd ye from the talons of 
the law, and then you told me what a grateful gentle- 
man devil you'd prove. Prithee, oblige me this once, 
in quitting the Lady Julia, and I release thee of all 
demands whatever. 

Rod. And I have paid ye sufiiciently. 

Mat. But I'm concern'd in this beyond a retreat. 
Prithee this once, or I must say too thou art not that 
grateful devil I expected. 



360 BELPHEGOR. 

Bod. How, sirrah ! — tax me with ingratitude ? 
Have ye forgot 'twas I that made your fortune 1 — I 
that gave ye the occasion of that aphorismatical cane, 
and reform'd your greasy chamois into silks and 
satins ? And are ye now grown insolent % I'll make 
ye know I can take back as well as give ; or other- 
wise, call me the most pitiful, poor-spirited rascal of a 
devil. 

Mat Nay, let's not part in anger. A word with ye. 

Rod. As many words as you please ; but no more 
stark love and kindness. 

[They whisper. Mattheo takes him by the collar. 

Mat. Now, sirrah, too ; and since nothing else will 
do it, I'll e'en return ye to your wife. — [They struggle. 
Roderigo sinks under him, and leaves a dead body.] — 
Now shall I be hang'd for idlling this rascal. There's 
no more to be done but cut off his head and bury 
him; and then, perhaps, wanting a retreat, he may" 
quit the lady of himself. I'll run for a hatchet, and 
do it. ' [I^xit Mattheo. Eoderigo springs up with 
a hollow laugh. 

Bod. Hoh — hoh — hoh ! [Eoderigo runs. Bel- 
zebub rises unth hmror. Mattheo returns 
with a hatchet, trembles, drops it, and crowds 
himself up to the wall. 

Belz. Whither, Belphegor] Hold ! 

Bod. My old colleague and friend, Belzebub ! 

Belz. "Which I abjure. We've heard of ye, thou poor. 
Thou pitiful, hen-hearted, sneaking devil ! 
Thou general 1 A scandal to the name ! 
Where's all that fable of the giants' war 
Thou hast so often boasted as thy story ? 

Bod. And 'tis my glory yet. 

Belz. In chimney-corners ! 

Thou ever threw'st Ossa on Pelion ! 
Away, thou changeling ! No ; thy best pretence 
Is the degenerate offspring of their gore, — 
Their earth-born gore, — and all thy former soul 
Is dwindled to a glow-worm. Thou a devil % 
A very shame t' us all ! 



BELPHEGOR. 361 

Rod. The inclination 

Follows the temper of the body ; and I 
Was out in mine. 

Belz. Thou mightest have chosen better. 

How many brave bandits were there hang'd yearly 
That durst have trod the utmost brink of space, 
Have fought the devil on a precipice, 
Brav'd fate, and stood a second and third thunder ! — 
And thou to take such a tame, snivelling slave ! 

Rod. Men have no windows in their breast, and what 
Could I judge of a carcase ? He was handsome, 
And so a step to get a wife, which you well know 
Was the first thing I was obliged to do. 

Belz. And thou hast got one with a vengeance ! 
Mistaken fool ! As if women knew not what a smock- 
face meant ! They take him for one of themselves, 
only that nature mistook him in the coinage. If ever 
they loved anything, it was a rough-hewn fellow that 
knew what was fit for 'em, and let 'em have it ; but 
never their wills. If they once get that bit between 
their teeth, they run away with ye. 

Rod. I was to become in all things as a man, and 
did no more than what other men did. And if your 
Grand Cabal knew 'em so well, why was I sent hither? 

Belz. As an honourable spy. Thou hadst the world 
before thee ; every lap * was thy chapel of ease : nor 
wert thou bound to residence. 

Rod. And yet to marry one. 

Belz. As those other men, for fashion sake. You 
may easily believe we design'd no breed. But where 
lay the obligation of loving her more than other men 
their wives 1 But to doat on her—'tis thy eternal 
blot! 

Rod. There had been no quiet without it. 

Belz. Unthinking sot ! could there be any -with it % 
If so, what makes thee shifting thus % What's become 
of your million of ducats 1 

* " I'll make my haven in a lady's lap, 

And 'witch sweet ladies with my words and looks." 

Shakespeake. 



362 BELPHEGOR. 

Rod. My wife has either spent or cheated me of 
'em. 

Belz. Beast of a devil ! Must we torment the bowels 
of the earth, or from our treasure of the ocean, the 
spoils of wrecks and tempests, furnish thee] Thy 
folly, or thy wife's, never to be satisfied — I know not 
what? 

Rod. Ye left me to myself, and I was guided by 
others. What counsel ever drew his own convey- 
ance 1 

Belz. But thou, contrary to all rules of practice, 
hast given thyself physic. 

[RODERIGO stejps forward to hwi. 

Rod. As his penance, then, even take the doctor. 

Belz. Stand off, thou less than man, and unworthy 
the name of devil ! I hate a trimming devil. Keep 
off! 

Rod. You are no competent judge ; you were never 
married yourself. I submit all to Lucifer. 

Belz. And, when your time's expir'd, you shall be 
heard. 

Rod. But if either my wife or creditors catch me in 
the meantime, I must and will return at all adven- 
tures. 

Belz. That at your peril ! and remember I tell it 
ye. [Sinks. Roderigo goes up to Mattheo, yet 

trembling, and takes up the hatchet and 
lifts it at him. 

Rod. Now, sirrah ! remember for what you brought 
this hatchet. But I'm a gentleman. Live, and trouble 
me no more ! [Exit with it. 

Mat. A fair escape. But what shall I say to 
Grimaldi, though 1 Why, he's a noble person, and if 
I tell him the truth, he may, perhaps, be satisfied — at 
least for a while. And if I don't outwit my devil at 
last, I give him leave to brain me. [Exit 



belphegor. 363 

Scene iv. 

Of Grbialdi's hmse. 
Enter Grimaldi and Marone. 

Mar. 'Tis the most I can gather. Pansa stands 
firm to his first examination, and Bianca more and 
more clears her lady. 

Grwi. Nor can anything please me better but that, 
my friend's getting up again. 

Mar. Would I could say as much of Eoderigo ! 

Grim. For why, man ? 

Mar. He's broke, and run away. 

Grim. What? — He that darkened all our stars? 
Impossible ! 

Mar. Too true. 

Grim. Yet how you magnified him. 

Mar. His great dealings and punctual payments 
might have cheated any man as well as me. 

Grim. Was the sum considerable 1 

Mar. Two hundred thousand ducats at least. 
■ Grim. 'Tis a wonder no more follow him ; for it is 
often with merchants as nine-pins, hit but your first 
and second right, and 'tis odds but two parts in three 
tumble. 

Mar. That, I'm afraid, shall I, for one ! He owes 
me ten thousand ducats ; and, when I went to his 
lady this morning, she told me he had left her a 
beggar. 

Grim. And yet, you know, he was wise, prudent, 
virtuous, and once your glory ; he called ye friend, 
and shall a little dirt part ye ? Come ! your credit 
will set him up again. 

Mar. If it would to the gallows, I'd venture as 
much more. 

Grim. Your friend 1 You wouldn't, sure ? 

Mar. My friend ! A very rogue — a mere cheating, 
beggarly, bankrupt rascal ! 



364 BELPHEGOR. 

Enter a Servant to Marone. 

Ser. Eoderigo, sir, attempting to have got home last 
night in a disguise, was met by the bailiffs, who secur'd 
him, and coming to him this morning, found him dead. 

Mar. Nay, then, farewell my ten thousand ducats ! 
— if yet that were all. 

Ser. And there were found in his pocket some papers 
purporting a design of betraying this city, wherein you 
seem concern' d ; upon which the Senate have issued 
warrants against you, and seiz'd your house and goods, 
for moneys, as 'tis said, due to the bank. 

[Marone starts and tears his hmr. 

Mar. Eoderigo ! — my papers ! — the bank ! What 
shall I do ? 

Grim. Consult your virtue ! A virtuous man is 
ever present to himself, and proof against the worst 
of fortune. 

Mar. Virtue ! — Cold comfort. 

[He run^ off. Eoderigo meets him. 

Rod. I was at your house, to have adjusted some 
accounts between us, and they directed me hither. 

[Marone embraces him. 

Mar. Eoderigo ! I'm o'erjoyed ! They've belied 
my friend. We'll never part ! 

Piod. Content ! 

[Eoderigo tahes him in his arms, and sinks with him. 

Grim. Defend me, heaven ! What's this % 

[He loalks. 

Enter Servant. 

It has half bereft me of myself. 

Ser. A gentleman, sir, — they call him the devil- 
doctor, — desires to speak with you. 

Grim. I would he had come sooner. Bring him in ! 
— \_Exit Servant.] — Sure hell's broke loose this year. 

Enter Mattheo, his head broken. 

The dreadful object's not yet digested. 

Mat. I was with the lady according to my promise, 



BELPHEGOR. 365 

but, like a dog by a glover, the devil smelt me out 
from all the company. Ecce signum ! 

[He points to his head. 

Grim. I'm sorry for 't ; but the duke will send ye a 
healing plaister. 

Mat. And I more sorry that the lady lies under 
such an ill direction. Strange configurations — the 
planets in their detriment, retrograde and malevolent ; 
nor do I remember to have seen a worse aspect- of 
heaven. Saturn and Jupiter, sir 

G-rim. No canting, I beseech ye ! I believe it. 

Mat. And for the spirit that possesses her, there 
has not such an ill-contriv'd, capricious, hectoring 
devil broke loose these three last centuries. I believe 
the fathers are sensible of it. 

Grim. The truth is they have had a hard tug with 
him. 

Mat. He is perversus hcereticus. Bell, book, and 
candle — he danced a jig to 't; and for holy water, 
he made no more of it than I'd have done of a bottle 
of Montefiasco. Upon the whole matter, I judge him 
some devil of quality ; and then I have no power over 
him. All mine are poor devils. 

- Grim. This will not do. If you please to free her, 
it will be well accepted and better rewarded. If not, 
be sure the duke will have ye in the Inquisition, and 
make ye set forth by what new way, unknown to the 
Church, you have delivered the two former ; or, who 
knows, inquire de vita et moribus, and hang yourself 

Mat. Will ye, then, hear me without canting, and 
I'll discover all ? 

Grim. Hear ye I will ! but promise nothing. 

Mat. I ask no more. And who d'ye think this 
devil is 1 Even Roderigo, our late great merchant ! 

Grim. Convince me of that, and thou say'st somewhat. 

Mat. The story is too large to tell you now ; but 
thus, in short, 't was by compact between us for a 
prior service, — of which I'll give ye an account anon, 
— and on that score, and no other, was it that I freed 
those ladies of him. 



366 BELPHEGOR. 

Grim. Then thou may'st the better do this.' 

Mat. I once thought it. But, since you spake to me, 
we met, and I propos'd to him the quitting the Lady 
Julia as the last kindness I'd demand of him ; and he 
not only refus'd me, but profess'd himself my mortal 
enemy. And if this — [^pointing to his head] — be the 
token of a friend, I leave it to you. 

Grim. I am inclined to believe thee ; for 'twas not 
a minute before you Came but he was here, and gave 
me that evidence of what you say. I'll never desire 
to see 't again. But what shall we do with the duke? 

Mat. Do not despair ! I've yet a trick shall do the 
business. Get me a large stage, with a full throng of 
people, fifes, flutes, cornets, trumpets, sackbuts, drums, 
kettle-drums, hautboys, and bagpipes; and let the 
Lady Julia be brought on the stage well attended j 
and when I throw up my hat, let 'em all strike up 
together ! and, when I cry advance, let a lady in a 
veil, whom I'll appoint for that purpose, enter with 
another shout ; and this, with some other ingredients 
that I have, will, I doubt not, send him packing. 

Grim. Appoint your time and place ! all shall be 
ready. 

Mat. I leave that to your pleasure. 

Grim. What think you of to-morrow, and the duke's 
great hall for the place 1 

Mat. None better; and I'll attend ye there. [Exeunt. 



Act v. — Scene i 

Tlie Street. 
Enter Fieschi 



Fies. It takes, as right as wish. Quartilla was just 
to her hour ; and in the dark I shufiled my Signior 
Principi's hand into hers instead of mine, and there's 
no doubt but she has put them together. He's a 



BELPHEGOR. 367 

brawny fellow, and like enough to please her ; but, 
for fear the jade should be fond of him next morning, 
he has his lesson not to answer her anything but 
broken gibberish. The Jews sent in the bed and 
plate on Roderigo's account, as new furniture for 
his house, and, as I am told, are resolv'd to seize it. 
And, if my Signior Principi has not deceiv'd me, we 
shall have rabble enough about the house presently. 
ril take a turn or two to see the issue. [He lualJcs. 

Enter Jews. 

1 Jew. I say 'twas your folly, brother, to send it 
hand over head. 

2 Jew. We have had greater dealings with him, and 
his payment was ever good. 

1 Jew. But men may not be the same at all times. 
It was considerable, and you should have inquir'd. 

2 Jew. You knew his broker ; and I saw the goods 
deliver'd. 

1 Jew. But he was broke before. 

2 Jew. How could I know that ? — Men don't pro- 
claim it. 

1 Jew. Had we been bitten by a snap, 'twere some- 
what ; but by a prodigal fool ! The town will laugh 
at us. 

Enter Officers. 

2 Jew. Let's not make it worse by talking. Come, 
gentlemen ; stand close, and as the door opens, enter ! 

[He knocks ; Fieschi comes up. 
Fies. 'Morrow, gentlemen ! You're early men. 

1 Jew. Business must not be neglected. 

Fies. And if I mistake not, your attendants speak 
where it lies. 

2 Jew. It is too late to conceal it now; we're 
miserably cheated ! 

Fies. What 1 — beaten at your own weapons ! Eode- 
rigo, sure, is a man of estate and credit. 

1 Jew. Time was he might have commanded all we 
have ; but now — ^the bird is flown. 



368 BELPHEGOR. 

2 Jew. Gone, as a man may say, infumo ! 
Fies. He left enough behind, unless his wife has 
sold it. 

1 Jew. There's the danger ! Knock harder ! 

[Another knock 

Fies. I have no small concern with him myself, 

which brought me hither, too, though not so well 

provided. But — [he whisjpers tliem\ — if ye can, I'll 

give ye [Again. 

2 Jew. When we have serv'd ourselves, we're yours. 

Enter Don Hercio. 

Her. What rude hand profan'd this sanctuary 1 

Fies. And who are you ] 

[FiESCHi taJces him. by the arm, while the rest enter. 

Her. I'm the righter of wrongs, and undoer of in- 
juries — heart of steel, and arms of brass ! 

Fies. And what figure do you make in this house 1 

Her. Only engag'd in Eoderigo's absence ; and, Kke 
the dragon of old, I watch the golden fruit till his re- 
turn. Still true to honour, and will fight her battles ! 

Fies. As thus — with that baboon's snout % 

[He wipes him over the face. 

Her. Foto ! Had it been under the ear, y'ad mea- 
sured your length. 

Fies. Sirrah, begone ! and take to your old trade of 
knitting caps and making hair buttons, tooth-picks, 
and false dice, which you learnt of your comerogues 
of the galleys. 

[Jews and Officers run out again, Quartilla 
following with a paring-shovel.* 

Qua. Why, villains ! rogues ! Jews ! Is there no 
consideration of a lady's honour ? 

1 Jew. Keep her honour to herself, and give us our 
goods. 

Qua. And thou, Polacco 1 — Oh me ! [To FiESCm. 

Fies. I hope your lady had a good night of it. 

Qua. Thou devil incarnate ! 

* Paring-iron : an instrument to pare a horse's hoofs with. — 
Palsgrave. Paring-spade : a breast-plough. — Yoeksh. 



BELPHEGOR. 369 

Enter Boys and Rabble, whooping. 

Boys. Picaro ! Picaro ! make haste, Picaro ! — exe- 
cution stays for ye ! 

Qua. What was that ? — -Picaro ! 

[Picaro appears above. 
Fie. I'm but buttoning my coat, and will be with 
ye instantly. 

Boi/s. Come down ! come down ! There will be no 
sport till you come. 

[Boys hollow ; Quartilla lays at them with her 
paring-shovel ; they take it from her. 
Qua. Ah, rogue ! art thou there 1 Have we refus'd 
Velasco, Tedesco, di Parphar, di Laco 1 

[She wrings her hands. 
Fies. The devil and all ! 

Qu^. And now to be sham'd by the common hang- 
man ! 

Enter Picaro in a white cap, sleeves, apron tuck'd round 
his waist, arid a large knife stuck in it. 

Boys. Picaro ! Picaro ! Picaro ! Picaro ! 

Qua. Is this your Principi Polacco 1 Foveraccia ! 
Foveraccia, peccatrice me ! I could eat thee ! — \to 
Fieschi.] — Thou a gentleman 1 You said you'd make 
a whore of me, too ; but why don't you, sirrah % — why 
don't ye ? [Clapping her hands at him, and crying. 

Fies. The fool raves ! And so, Picaro, I hope you 
Hk'd your bed-fellow 1 

Fie. So well, sir, I owe ye another job, and that for 
nothing — she was such flesh and blood ! 

Her. And shall I see honour thus trampled on, and 

yet wear trusty steel on thigh ? Let me come at the 

rogue ] I'll pink his doublet, and make a sieve of 's 

skin. — [Boys hollow round him, and twitch him behind. 

He draws ; they tie a cracker to him. 

Her. Eogues ! scoundrels ! tatterdemallions ! — [He 

whets his point on the floor. They fire the cracker, and 

hollow.'] — ^I say, rogues ! dogs in doublets ! were ye 

more renown'd than Palmerin of England, or valiant 

2 a 



370 BELPHEGOR. 

than his cousin D'Oliva; more undaunted than the 
twelve peers of France, or greater bullies than King 
Arthur's Eound Table men ; more adventurous than 
Valentine and Orson, or invincible than Don Bellianis 
of Greece ; nay, were the whole mirror of knighthood 
contracted in ye, I'd make ye know [As he is rant- 
ing, PiCARO and anotJier slip the paring-shovel 
hetween his legs, hoist him on their shoulders, 
carry him round the stage, and exeunt, the hoys 
hollowing. Manet Fieschi. 
Fies. 'Twas somewhat sharp, but just; her treachery 
Deserv'd no better from me. And now no more 
But a long, long farewell to everything 
That looks like woman, till some worthy action 
Compound for my past folly. To repent 
Is the next step to being innocent. 

Men are no angels ! Somewhat must be indulg'd 
To passion, error, or mistake. The best 
Are not without their faults ; and the fairest life 
Has some leaves in it to be read without favour. 

[Marone is throivn upon the stage. Fieschi 
helps him up. 
Marone ! sure 'tis he ! 'Twas said the devil had car- 
ried him away, and now, belike, has thrown him back 
as not worth keeping. 

Mar. Where am I ? or whence came 11 Signior ! 
I have wonders to tell ye. Eoderigo is a spirit — a 
very de^dl ! 

Fies. And make you a good use of your escape from 
him. 

Mar. I will, I will ! and never more oppress any man ; 
but ha^sdng got clear of the Senate, what I once said in 
scorn I'll now perform in earnest — I'll build an hospital. 
Fies. To lodge those yourself first beggar' d. 
Mar. Give what I have to charitable uses. 
Fies. That is to say, you'll sleep upon 't, and look 
out for another mortgage next morning. Charity, you 
know, begins at home. 

Mar. Eespite your censure till you hear my story. 
That I had hearkened to your good, virtuous uncle ! 



BELPHEGOR. 371 

Fies. Whom, under my present circumstances, I'll 
never see. If ever man lost his reason in a petticoat, 
'twas I, — ^the poor, unfortunate, mistaken Fieschi. 

[EMunt 



Scene ii. 

A great Hall. 

Enter Grimaldi avd Mattheo. 

Chim. You're a man of your word. 

Mat. And pray, believe I made not those scruples 
out of any repugnancy, or want of will to serve ye ; 
but that, in case my endeavours answer not my desires, 
you might judge the more favourably of me. Are all 
things ready 1 

Grim. They are ! and if you want nothing, I'll go 
for the lady. 

Mat. I only wait her. But be sure you follow the 
directions I gave you. 

Grim. They shall be observ'd. [Exit Grimaldi. 

- Mat. And now assist me, thou great patron of man- 
kind. Impudence ! I have some ends of Latin myself, 
besides a bushel of hard words I learnt from others, 
if I can hit 'em right. However, like them, I'll trowl 
it off boldly, and enough of it ; nor shall that trifling 
circumstance of sense and pertinence be any rub in 
my way. Ha'n't I heard a man quote the books he 
never read, and cited authors that never were ? And 
ha'n't it past ? What should hinder it % 

Grimaldi returns with Julia in an elbow-chair, 
well attended. 

Jul. Are you there 1 I'll conjure ye ! Unhand 
me, villains ! 

3Iat. And you, too, nor man, nor devil — semibovemque 
viruin, semivirumque bovem. — [He whisjjers her.] — Bel- 
phegor ! dear Belphegor ! you know I once serv'd ye 



372 BELPHEGOR. 

at a dead lift. Come, be yet civil, and depart ! if not, 
this is the last time of asking. 

Jul. I forbid the banns ! both parties are not agreed. 
Have I gravelled so many doctors, to turn out now for 
a pitiful vineroUo ? Let me come at him ! 

Mat. Then know, foul fiend, conjuro et commando 
fihi, by St. Hugh's bones, St. Luke's face, and ventre 
St. Gii ; and by all the occult qualities of salt, sulphur, 
and mercury, I once more command and conjure ye, 
that ye make me direct answer touching yourself, 
your tatterdemallions and puggs, and forthwith de- 
part this lady, with all your signatures, tricks, trinkets, 
and trumperies, from the crown of her head to the sole 
of her foot, under the pain that I releage and confine 
ye to your dismal lake for a thousand years yet more 
than were ever decreed ye. 

Jul. The rogue's pleasant, and I'll humour him. 



Mat. Tell me I say, and conjure ye as before, what 
are ye % 

Jul. Shame fa' him that speers and kens sae weel. 

Mat. Your name, I say % 

Jul. Monsieur Devile; Don or Signior Diavolo; 
Meinherr Tifle ; Herenagh Mac Deul ; or Sir Duncan, 
in the devil's name. 

Mai. What's here % — Philippus, Aureolus, Theo- 
phrastus, Paracelsus, Bombastus of Hoenhayim? How 
many are there of ye % 

Jul. Ten hundred thousand ton ! 

Mat. Of what order? 

Jul. Like other bodies aggregate, of none, nor ever 
reducible under any. 

Mat. At least, your superior's name ? 

Jul. I never own'd any. 

Mat. Tell me, I say, and '^uheo — Is there absoluta 
2)ofentia asmodei, sive cujusvis alii, or a vitium corpmis, as 
say the learned ? What made ye first possess her 1 

Jul. Look on her, and answer yourself — she's young 
and handsome ! 

Mat. So was your wife, sirrah ! and yet [She 



BELPHEGOR. 373 

falls into a Jit] — This will work presently. — [Aside.] — 
How long have ye been there 1 

Jul. Much about the time you crack'd a command- 
ment with your tailor's wife. — [Mattheo starts.] — Are 
ye concern'd, gentleman "? Ha — ha ! 

Mat. Bring me the flagellum dcemonmnf I'll taw 

Jul. Or rather give yourself the first discipline, and 
I'll help to lay it on. Ha — ha — ^ha 1 

3fat. Once more, I say, turn out, or by the ^phoheron 
phoherotaton, ton de apomeibomenos, and heautontemoru- 
menos — Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, 
A tJience — I'll 

Jul. What, my new conjuror — ^what 1 Hoh — hoh ! 

Mat. I'll lead ye about the country, like a bear, by 
the nose ; make ye turn spits, like a dog in a wheel ; 
and if that won't do 't, have ye chain'd, Hke a flea in a 
box. And therefore, despatch, and let me know what 
sign you'll give of your departure. 

Jul. Thunder — thunder — thunder ! As thus, rascal I 

[She flies on him. 

Mat. I'U have ye bound over for bloodshed and 
battery. 

Jid. I fear no justice under heaven. 

Mat. I'll bring ye into th' spiritual court, and have 
ye excommunicated ! 

Jul. I am no member of your church ; or, if I were, 
I have no money to pay fees. 

Mat I'U have ye burnt in effigy, with brimstone, 
galbanum, aristolochia, hypericon, and rue, in a more 
terrible cap and painted coat than the Inquisition yet 
ever thought of And, if all this fail, I'll send ye back 
to your wife. 

Jul. You told me so once before ; but now, I hope 
you'll stay till you catch me. Yet I don't like the 
rogue. [Aside. 

Mat. Then I'll bring her to you. — [Be throws up his 
hat. Wind music is heard, ivith a shout without. 

Jul. What would this peasant be at ] I have more 
than once view'd all the pomp of heaven, nor am I 



374 BELPHEGOR. 

ignorant of what's most formidable m hell. But what 
means this ? Prithee, Mattheo, what is it 1 

3Iat. Are ye come to your prithee, sirrah ] Either 
march off civilly, or know that, will or nil, you shall ! 
Alas, poor Roderigo I your wife's in chase of ye, and 
is just coming up-stairs. Advance, Imperia ! 

[The same music is heard. A lady in a veil enters, 
with shouting. Julia springs at him, and falls 
as dead. It thunders. All startle. 

Jul. 'Tis she ! she 'as found me out. 

Mat. Fear nothing ! the work is done. And now, 
take care of theJady. 

Grim. I'll see it done. And, having made the duke 

laugh, it shall be my next business to see you gratified. 

[Julia is carried off. Exeunt all but IVIattheo. 

3Iat. And if I get no more, 'tis no great matter ; I 
have lin'd myself pretty well already. And now, all 
things consider'd, I think myself happy enough that 
I have 'scaped hanging at last ; and if, in spite of my 
stars, I set up as a doctor, who can help it 1 [Exit. 



Scene iil 

MONTALTO'S house. 

Enter Montalto, in a nightgown, Marone, Portia, 
and Attendants. 

3fon. I heard it from my friend, and must confess 
Not without some surprise. I've here and there 
Read of the devil's power to condense 
A cloud, t' assume and actuate a body ; 
But never came near the experiment till now. 
Where were ye in that absence ? 

Mar. I remember 

No more of that than how I was thrown back. 

Mon. You would do well to make a scrutiny 
Into yourself, and where you guess the cause. 
Unlearn that first. 

For. And if you chance to find 



BELPHEGOR. 375 

You have oppress'd the poor, make restitution, 
And by what's past correct what is to come. 

Mar. I'd once such thoughts ; but when I consider'd 
I only took what law had given me, 
I thought there was no such great haste or need. 

For. The greater the oppression, when law 
Is made the stale to 't. This of Eoderigo, 
For aught you know, was given ye as a caution. 

Mar. And had there been no malice of his own, 
I should have thought so ; but he ow'd me money, — 
Ten thousand ducats,— and, o' my conscience, 
Thought to have frighten'd me to a release ; 
And if I've giv'n him one, I'll plead j?er clures. 

However, this I'm resolv'd — that, and other the 
like debts, I'll give 'em all to pious uses. But for 
restitution — alas ! my estate's but small, and I cannot. 

. [MoNTALTO smiles. 

Mon. That is, you will not ; nor, perhaps, repent 
The late intended treachery to your countr}^ 
A \drtuous man, like Sceva, in the breach 
Combats an army singly for her safety ; 
Inseparably they stand and fall together. 
Cato would not survive his country's liberty ; 
Nor did that hberty outlive Cato. 
Make me think better of ye. Yet begin ; 
Delay is just so much time lost. 

Enter Grbialdi and Mattheo. 

Grim. My doctor, here, has giv'n him a third re- 
move. 

Mat. And I hope there will be no occasion of show- 
ing him round. 

Gr'un. He'll tell ye the story Tvdthin j and not un- 
worth your hearing. In the mean, I cannot too often 
congratulate your recovery. 

Mon. Nor I acknowledge your friendship. 
I'll tell ye news — good news ! for there's nothing 
We must not share. Methinks I am become 
Another man, and this small quiet pleases 
Beyond the noise of crowds. Now I can see 



376 BELPHEGOR. 

The great ones heave like moles, and at next turn 
Heave out themselves ; another, mushroom-like, 
Spring in a night and cropp'd ere noon ; a third, 
Snatch at a booty, which a fourth strikes from liim, 
And unconcern' d myself. 

Glim. True happiness 

Lies not in greatness but an honest mind, 
Not fram'd of accidents, nor subject to 'em — 
A serene breast, and such a life as is not 
'Sham'd to live, nor yet afraid to die. 

For. And yet how does the world turmoil itself ! 
How do they play away their days, and trifle 
Their time in parts till they have slipped the whole 1 
One business breeds another ; hope, desire ; 
And that makes room for more. How they afflict 
Themselves and envy others ! Eestless in war. 
And ev'n in peace unquiet ! Compass with care 
What they possess with more anxiety ! 

Mon. To them that love it, be 't ; I neither like 
The merchandise nor price. What is 't to him 
That can't dissemble 1 — him that cannot flatter %— 
That's not ambitious by indignities 
To rise to dignities and lose himself? 
Whereas retirement, as it costs us nothing, 
Is much the shorter cut to heaven itself 

Enter Imperia and Quartilla as distracted. 

Imp. Help — help me, sister ! Can ye forgive me ? 
You can't — you can't ! Whither shall I run ] He'll 
ha' me — he'll ha' me. 

Pot. You never injur'd me ; or if you had, I have, as 
I ought, forgot it. 

Qua. Our house is more than haunted ! 

Imp. Sister — sister, I've married the devil ! See ! 
where he stands ! 

For. Bless the poor miserable woman ! good heaven ! 

Qua. His eyes as big as pumpkins — [she starts'] — 
and a mouth like any baker's oven ! Let me alone, 
good devil; and take my lady— she's younger flesh ! 
[Slie starts up and down, and shrieks. 



BELPHEGOR. 377 

Imp. See ! see ! — the house cracks ! — ^the walls are 
coming together ! — ^that beam was shot at me ! 

Qua. I'm your old servant, Quartilla ! Good devil 

Imp. There, too, the ground opens ! — I'll at him, 
though ! Dost thou yet brave me % — Time was thou 
fear'd'st me more ! — ^I'll give ye back your keys ! — 
Dost thou yet — yet 

Pm\ I see nothing, sister. Pray, walk in with me j 
my innocence dares speak to him. 

Imp. There, there — the greater devil — Fieschi ! 

For. Poor afflicted woman ! — her hurt imagination 
conceives anything. Pray, go in with me ! I'll bear 
ye company. 

Imp. No — no ; I'll out at that window ! 

Enter Eoderigo. All are surprised. Imperia 
and Quartilla shrieh and run off. Portia 
folloius. Eoderigo makes up to Marone. He 
gets behind Montalto. Montalto steps out. 

Mon. Horror ! Be man or devil, I'll know what 
thou art ! [Eoderigo gives hack. 

Bod. Thy virtue is beyond the power of hell. Be 
safe ! and if you have not heard my story, there's one 
—[lie points to Mattheo] — can teU it ye. And so my 
embassy is at an end perforce. 

Mat. And your creditors may speak to ye upon even 
terms. 

Rod. No more of that. On what account I first 
assum'd this body, you — [to Mattheo] — know ; how I 
liv'd among ye, ye all know ; and why I went off so 
soon, my wife best knows. In short, I have found 
earth the greater hell, and, being obliged to no more 
than my own experience, must declare that men's 
souls are in the right, and 'tis their wives that send 
them thither ; and, for myself, promise ye I'll never 
again repent me at so dear a rate. \Exit. 

Mon. Stupendous ! And the more I consider it, the 
more I'm at a loss. My first surprise is now astonish- 
ment. 

Grim. I'm of opinion his two servants, that were 



378 BELPHEGOR. 

taken up the other night, may be the same as their 
master, and therefore I order' d Picaro to bring them 
hither, as if they were to be put upon the rack. Per- 
haps they'll tell ye more. 

Mon. It can be no hurt, tho' nothing yet appears 
against 'em. 

G^rim. I would I could say as much of my unfortu- 
nate nephew that was; and whom Imperia's last words 
unmllingly brought to my memory. Can ye, as I 
have, and ever will, forget him ? 

Mon. And more than that, I have forgiv'n him ! do 
you the same. He is not naturally vicious, and who 
knows what his future actions may be % Whatever 
were the injury design' d, it was to me. My Portia 
is safe, and I'm reveng'd enough. The dismal object 
once again ! 

Enter Koderigo, plodding. All tJie comj>any again 
sun 



Mod. But stay ! Suppose 

Mat. Are you come again? Nay, then, advance, 
bailiffs ! [Roderigo starts. Recovers, and goes up 

ruffling to Mm. 

Eod. Beware, sirrah, how you fool once too much ! 
Suppose, I say, my term being not a full third part 
expir d, they'll not receive me below ! Why, I must 
find somewhere to put my head. For the women, I 
bar 'em, bye and main.* Who knows but I may have 
better luck among the men ? I have, I must confess, 
learn d some wit among ye ; and according to your 
frank, open, wonted simplicity, I'll tell ye my design 
— cross-bite it if you can. 

Mat That could I, sirrah, if I durst. 

[From behind Montalto. 

Bod. I'll buzz fears and jealousies among citizens, 
factions among country gentlemen, grumblings among 
younger brothers, heart-burnings among courtiers, and 
sedition among the common people. But suppose, 
again, my citizen's wife work her husband into a good 

* Terms in dice-play. 



BELPHEGOR. 379 

trade ? — my country gentleman be made a justice of 
the peace? — my younger brother become an elder 
brother ?-^-my courtier stumble on a good office, or 
be taken off with a feather in his cap 1 — the common 
people get another opinion by the end 1 — and, at last, 
necessity force every man to comply with what he is 1 
Then am I but where I was ; and, as I said before, in 
the greater hell. And therefore, gentlemen, till we 
meet again, Bueonos nochios! [He sinks on the stage. 

Mon. It yet amazes me ! 

Mat. Do not believe him ; it is not the first time he 
has shown me that trick. 

Enter PiCARO, with Crispo and MiNGO manacled. 

Pic. I have brought them, sir, according to your 
commands ; but if I may be believ'd in my own trade, 
the first stretch will pull 'em in pieces. 

Grim. However, give 'em the question. What are 

Oris. The same our master was. And since our 
master, as I see, has giv'n us the slip, what have I to 
do but follow him ? 

Min. The same will trusty Mingo. Tell us of racks ! 
As I came whole among ye, be assur'd I'll not hazard 
a joint to satisfy a world ; ev'n take 'em all together. 

Cris. And mine to boot. 

[Crispo and Mingo drop, and leave dead bodies. 

Grim. 'Tis what I thought. Those bodies were 
assum'd. See if you know 'em; perhaps they may 
have pass'd your hand. [To PiCARO. 

Fie. As likely as not.- — [He turns them.] — Why, 
truly, sir, it is no country work, and whoever did it 
need not be asham'd of 't. Once more — the knot is 
in the right place ; and now I better consider it, 'tis 
all my own work. This Eoderigo, I remember him ; 
his name was Scabbalucchio, a Neapolitan bandit — 
I made his passport for t'other world about four years 
since, but a more cowardly rogue I never saw. He 
hung on arse more than a bear going to a stake ; and 
was three-quarters dead ere he got half the ladder. 



380 BELPHEGOR. 

But for the other two, I know no more of them but 
that it was my work too ; and for plain work, I dare 
justify it. 

Grim. Well, take them off, and throw 'em together 
into some hole or other ! {They are dragged off. 

Mar. And let 'em lie till I inquire after them. 

Grim. And beware you how ye venture another trip 
to terra damnata ! 

Mar. But the mob, I'm told, are got into my house, 
and rifling what the bank has left. 

Grim.. 'Tis natural to 'em, when they cannot cudgel 
the ass, to vent their rage against the pack-saddle ! 
Go, make your peace with the Senate ; and for the 
rest, time may obliterate your oppressions, and the 
next age forget their fathers were undone by ye. 

Portia re-enters. 

For. Poor, comfortless woman ! she's fall'n asleep at 
last. 

Mon. I think 't would do well to send her and all 
the women to the Convertiti ! 

Grim. And for Pansa, I'll secure him the galleys ! 
And now, sir, give me leave to tell ye in private what 
yet I have in charge from the Senate. Our duke 
having absolv'd his two years' government, the Senate 
is at last become so sensible of your merit, that they 
have elected you Duke in his room. A more solemn 
message will suddenly attend ye. 

Mon. Tempt not your friend with a fair gilded pill, 
All bitterness within. I am content. 
And what can Providence add more 1 
Caesar himself, the master of so many, 
Is yet the servant of more. 

For. And why should my Montalto seek elsewhere 
What he may give himself? If ever ambition 
Were justifiable, 'tis the ambition 
Of being rather good than great. 

Grim. Let snakes and worms, the emblems of self- 
love. 
Circle themselves into themselves, while nature 



BELPHEGOR. 381 

Minds more the preservation of the whole 
Than any single birth. Your country calls, 
And you must once more serve her. 

Mon. Why should I waste my small remain of life 
In blind pursuit of what can only serve me 
To furnish out an epitaph, yet must 
Subject me to the world and lash of fortune ? 

For. Fortune ! AVho'd trust her that has ever heard 
A triumph turn'd into a sacrifice ? 
Or a swoll'n favourite, whom the same day 
Saw worshipp'd by the Senate and ere night 
Torn piecemeal by the people ? 

Mon. No, Portia 1 

We'll find some nobler object — one on which 
She has no empire. 

For. There spoke Montalto ! 

And let the world, from his example, learn — 
Crimes may be fortunate while virtue creeps. 
And, Hke a flower oppressed with morning dew. 
Droops its neglected head ; but it will rise — 
Eise under the dead weight, when t' others shall. 
Like mighty ruins, break themselves on what they fall. 

\Exmnt amnes. 



EPILOGUE. 

Sjpoken hy Imperia. 

All is not done : there's yet a word or two 
For th' author ; and, fair ladies, first to you — 
You, who're the making or the marring powers ; 
For most men's watches ever went by yours. 
From you he hopes he need not fear a frown ; 
For what is Portia's virtue but your own ? — 
Your own transcrib'd, and what — if ye must know 
The truth — he only copied off from you. 

But for myself — for once ev'n let me pass, 
And tho' the face mayn't please ye, spare th' glass ; 
Ye can't but say, I made the Devil an ass ! 
Contraries by their contraries appear ; 
Were you all 'like, where were the good or fair ? 
There were no fund for wit were all men wise ; 
And fools would want their representatives. 

Faith, ladies, take it favourably ! and then, 
He thinks he's more than half secure o' th' men. 
For you that have good wives can't disapprove 
That in another which in them ye love ! 
And you that have got bad ones cannot call 
The copy ill that hits the original. 
What tho' at home ye dare scarce tread for fear 1 
Y'are out of hearing now, and may laugh here ! 
And you that ne'er had any of your own, 
May view the ground before the match be run. 

Sure, some of ye will be pleas'd ; and if so, 
Give me your hands upon 't. And seal it, you 
Fair ladies, with a smile ; 'twill clear the air, 
Make it a starry evening, and all fair. 



APPENDIX. 



I.— THE MARRIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 

The tales of Straparola are so little known in this country, that 
the following translation of the fourth fable of the Second Night, 
de Les Facecieuses Nuits de Straparole, by *' Pierre de Larivey- 
Champenois, " from the original Italian, may not be unaccept- 
able to our readers, particularly as Wilson refers to the author 
in his preface to Belphegor. 

The edition of Pierre de Larivey, from which it has been 
extracted, was printed at Amsterdam in 12mo, 1725, and is in 
two volumes. There was an earlier translation by * ' Guillaume 
Roville " in 1615, the preface to which is reprinted by De 
Larivey ; it is of uncommon occurrence, and we have not been 
able to obtain access to a copy. It is not to be found in Colonel 
Stanley's sale catalogue, probably the richest collection of 
FacetijB ever brought to the hammer in this country. 

Le Diable entendant que les maris se plaignoient de leurs 
femmes, epousa Silvie, & print pour compere Gasparin Bond, 
d' ne pouvant plus durer avec sa femme, entra ou corps du Due 
de, Melplie, puis son compere Gasparin Ven jelta hors. 
■ La legerete & peu d'entendement, qui se trouve pour le jourd 
hui en la plupart des femmes ; je parle de celles qui sans aucune 
consideration se laissent aveugler les yeux de I'entendment, 
tachant d'accomplir leurs desirs effrenez me donne occasion de 
raconter a la noble assistance un conte, non point par ci-devant 
entendue. Et ja9oit que vous la trouviez assez brieve & mal 
fagonnee, si est-ce qu'elle donnera a vous autres femme quelques 
instructions, comme j'espere de n'etre point si facheuse dore- 
navant a vos maris : Comme vous avez ete jusqu' a present. 
Et se je vous semble un peu trop piquant, ne m'en accusez point, 
car je suis hrunble serviteur de toutes vous autres, mais addres- 
sez-vous a Madame, qui malache la bride de pouvoir raconter, 
comme vous avez aussi entendu, ce qui me sera plus agreable. 
II y a done assez long temp, gracieuses Dames, que le Diable 
aiant ete abruve des grosses noises & questions, que faisoint 
journeUement les mariez centre leurs femmes, delibera de se 
marier. Et pour ce fau'e, il print la forme d'un beau jeune 
iils, & de bonne grace, garni de deniers & possessions, & le fit 
nommer Pancrace Stornel. Etant deja seme le bruit d'ice lui 
par toute la ville beaucoup de Courratiers le vindrent trouver, 



384 BELPHEGOR. 

lui presentant en manage de fort belles femmes avec gros deniers, 
& entr' autres lui fiit presente une fort belle & honete Damoiselle, 
nominee Silvie Balastre, laquelle etant en la grace du Diable la 
print pour sa bien-aimee epousee. 

On ne pouroit estimer les magnifiques noces, avec les 
triomphes, parens tant d'un cote que d'autre, qui furent invitez 
a ce festin. Le jour des epousailles il print pour son compere 
de I'anneau Gasparin Bonci, & les pompes des noces finies, il 
mena sa chere epouse en sa maison. Pen de jours, apres le diable 
lui dit : Ecoutez ma femme Silvie, que j'aime plus que moi- 
meme, vous pouvez assez facilement connoitre de quelle affection 
je vous aime, comme vous en avez pu faire I'experience en 
beaucoup de manieres. Puis qu'ainsi, est done vous me ferez 
une grace, qui sera facile a vous & a moi agreable. La grace 
que je veux de vous est, que vous me demandiez a present ce 
que vous pouvez imaginer soit de vetement, comme perles 
bagues, & autres choses qui appartiennent aux femmes, car j'ai 
delibere pour I'amour que je vous porte, de vous contenter de 
tout ce que vous me demanderez, voire valut-il un Eoiaume, 
sous cette condition, que pour I'avenir vous ne me molesterez 
plus pour telle occasion, mais que tout cela suifise pour tout le 
tems de v6tre vie, & donnez-vous bien garde de m'en demander 
plus! Car vous n'aurez jamais autre chose de moi. Silvie 
aiant demande tems de repondre a cela se'n alia trouver sa mere 
qui s'appeUoit Anastasie, laquelle etant deja assez agee etoit 
l)areillement bien fine & russee, & lui reconta tout ce que le 
mari lui avoit dit en lui demandant conseil fur cela. La mere 
qui s9avoit fort bien joiir son personnage en telles matieres, 
aiant entendu sa demande, print la plume & du papier & com- 
men9a a ecrire tout ce qu'une langue n'eut pu raconter en deux 
jours, puis dit a sa fille. Tien, retourne t'en a ta maison & dis 
a ton mari qu'il te fournisse de tout ce qui est escrit en ce papier, 
en se faisant tu feras contente de lui. Silvie s'etant partie 
d'avec la mere, se'en alia vers son logis ou elle se present a devant 
son mari, & lui requit tout ce qui etoit contenu en son memoire. 
Pancrace aiant lu & diligemment considere le contenu sa 
demande, lui dit tels propos, sgavez vous bien qu'il y a, ma 
mie Silvie, regardez bien qu'il n'y defaille rien de ce que me 
demandez, afin que vous ne vous plaigniez pas apres de moi, car 
je vous avertis que se vous me demandez apres aucune chose, 
elle vous sera refusee, & ne vous serviront de rien vos prieres ni 
larmes & soupirs. Pensez done bien a v6tre cas, & regardez 
bien qu'il ne vous faille rien. Silvie ne S9achant autre chose que 
demander, dit, qu'elle se contenoit de ce qui etoit ecrit au papier 
& quelle ne lui demanderoit plus rien. Tant j a que le Diable 
fit faire de beaux vetemens garnis de grosse perles, bagues & 
autres richesses, les plus belles k les plus triomphantes, qui 
furent oncques vdes. Outre plus il lui bailla de belles coefes 
sem'ees de perles, les aneauex, ceintures & autres choses encore 



BELPHEGOR. 385 

en plus grand nombre qu'il n'y a voit au memoire. Ce qui seroit 
impossible de raconter. Or Silvie se voiant ainsi bien vetue & 
si bien accoiitree, qu'il n'y avoit point d'autre femme en toute 
la cite qui lui ressemblat, en celas s'en tenoit toute glorieuse, & 
ue se pouvoit imaginer de demander, aucune chose au mari ru 
qu'elle se sentoit garnie de tout ce qu'il lui etoit nesscessaire. Ad- 
vint qu'il se prepara en ce meme terns un magnifique triompbant 
festin, oil furent invitees toutes les plus fameuses & honorables 
Dames qui se trouvassant, & entr' autres, Madame Silvie ne fut 
pas oubliee etant des plus belles nobles, & plus apparentes de 
toute la cite. Alors les Dames cbangerent toutes les fa9ons d'ha- 
billemens en d'autres, non point encore accoutumez, tellement 
que leurs accoutremens etoient si difFerens des premiers qu'on 
ne les connoissoit aucunement. Elle n'etoit pas fiUe de bonne 
mere, comrae on fait encore pour le jourd'hui, celle qui ne 
trouvoit une nouvelle fa9on pour mieux honorer le festin, 
cbacune femme tachoit de tout son pouvoir de surmonter les 
autres en nouvelles pompes & magnificences. Cependant les 
nouvelles vindrent aux oreilles de Madame Silvie, que les 
bourgeoises de la ville trouvoient nouvelles fa9ons d'babits, pour 
lionerer la fete triompbante, tellement qu'elle se vint a imaginer 
que les vetemens qu'elle avoit fait faire n'etoient plus bons, ni 
convenables pour le tems, parce qu'ils etoient faits a I'antique, 
& lors s'usoient accoutremens d'autre maniere, au moien dequoi 
elle tomba en si grande melancolie & depit, qu'elle ne pouvoit 
manger ni dormir, & n'entendoit-on autre chose par la maison 
que soupirs & plaintes, que se departoient du plus profond de 
son coeur. 

Xe Diable qui S9avoit tout ce que sa femme avoit au coeur, 
fit semblant de ne'n s9avoir rien, & s'aprochant d'elle, lui 
dit. Qu-avez-vous, Silvie ? que vent dire que vous etes ainsi 
fachee. Ne voulez-vous pas aller a ce festin? Silvie voiant 
I'occasion de repondre, prit un peu de hardiesse, & lui dit ; 
comment voulez-vous, mon mari, que j'y aille? mes habits sont 
tons faits a I'antique & ne sont pas comnie ceux que les autres 
Dames portent. Youlez-vous qu'on se mocque de moi? vi'ai- 
ment je ne le crois pas. Alors le Diable lui repondit ; ne vous 
ai-je pas fait faire tout ce qui vous etoit necessaire pour tout le 
tems de votre vie ? Comment me demandez-vous quelque chose 
maintenant ? Mais elle repondit n'avoir aucuns vetemens de 
telle fa9on, se plaignant grandement de son malheur ; tellement 
que le Diable lui dit. Or sus, que se soit pour jamais demandez 
ce que vous voulez, il vous sera octroie pour cette fois, & si 
vous me demandez aucune chose pour I'avenir, soiez assure qu'il 
vous adviendra chose dont vous serez, mal-contente, Silvie 
tout joieuse lui demandu taut de choses qu'il seroit impossible 
a d'ecrire. Le Diable sans gueres retarder contenta pour lors 
sa femme en ce qu'elle lui demanda. Bien-tot apres les Dames 
commeucerent a trouves nouvelles fa9on d'habits que SiMe 

2b 



S86^ BELPHEGOR. 

n'avoit point ; & ponr autant qu'elle ne pouvoit comparoitre 
entre les autres Dames qui avoient fagons sur fa9ons, noiiobstant 
qu'elle fut ricliement accoutree & garnie de toutes sordes de 
bagues, s'en fachoit grandement & n'osoit le manifester a son 
mari, a cause qu'il I'avoit deja content^e par deux fois, de ce 
qui ce pouvoit sonhaiter en ce monde. 

A la fin le Diable la voiant ainsi triste, & sa9liant bien 
la cause toutes-fois feignant de ne'n s^avoir rien, lui dit. 
Qu'y a t'il, ma mie Silvie ? qu'avez vous a etre si triste ? 
Alois elle prit un peu de hardiesse, & lui dit, N'ai-je 
pas occasion d'etre fachee vu que je suis sans habits a la 
nouvelle fa9on, tellement que je n'oserois comparoitre entre 
les autres femmes que je ne sois mocquee & montree au 
doigt. Ce que retourne a grand reproche de yous & de moi, 
joint que la sujetion ou je suis etant avec vous avec la fideletie 
que j'ai envers vous ne merite point une telle honte & scandale. 
Alors le Diable emu d'un depit qu'il avoit, lui dit : Dequoi 
avez-vous en faute etant avec moi ? Ne vous ai-je pas deja 
eontente par deux fois de ce que m'avez demande : dequoi vous 
plaignez-vous done ? Quant a moi je ne scais plus que vous faire, 
je vous veux encore contenter de votre desordonne desir, toutes- 
fois je m'en irai si loin que vous n'aurez jamais nouvelles de 
moi. 

Et de fait apres lui avoir donne de toutes les sortes 
d'habits de soie selon, le tems, & I'aiant du tout contentee se 
partit sans prendre conge d'elle, & s'en alia a Melphe ou il 
entra au corps du Due en le tourmentant a prement. Le pauvre 
Due se trouvant ainsi maltraite en etoit merveillesement facb^, 
& n'y avoit en Melphe homme de si bonne & si sainte vie qui 
lui put chasser du corps. Or advint que Gasparin Boncy com- 
pere de Monsieur le Diable, fut banni de la cite, pour quelques 
exces par lui commis; tellement que afin qu'il ne fut point 
prins et puni par justice, il se partit de-1^ & se'n alia a Melphe, 
pour autant qu'il ne s9avoit aucun metier, sinon joiier & trompes 
un chacun; incontinent le bruit fut seme par la ville de Melphe, 
que c' etoit un homme expert & metable a toute entreprise 
honorable, & nean-moins il etoit du tout inutile. Ainsi que 
ce Gasparin joiioit un jour avec quelques gentilhommes de 
Melphe, & les aiant attrapez avec ses piperies, ils se facherent 
grandement, & si la crainte de la justice ne les eut divertis ils 
I'auroient facilement tue. Toutefois ne pouvant plus I'un diceux 
endurer tel outrage, dit en lui meme. Je t'en punirai d'une 
telle sorte qu'il te souviendra de moi tant que tu vivras, & sans 
plus retarder laissa ses compagnons, & s'en alia tiouver le Due, 
auquel aiant fait un grande reverence, dit ainsi : Tres excellent 
Due & Seigneur il y aen cette ville un nomme Gasparin, qui se 
vante partout de s9avoir chasser du corps des hommes, les esprits 
de qtielque qualitie qu'ils soient ou terrestres, ou aerez : Au 
moien dequoi il me semble qu'il seroit bon que vous en fissiez 



BELPHEGOR. 387 

Texperienee, afin que suffiez delivere d'un tel tourment. Le Diic 
aiant entendu ces propos, envoia incontenent qnerir Gasparin 
lequel entendant le vouloir du Due s'en alia par devers lui, si- 
tot qu'il I'eut regarde en la face, il lui dit : Seigneur Gasparin, 
j'entends que vous faites profession, & vous vantez de scavoir 
chasser les esprits ; quant a moi, comme vqus voiez, j'en ai un au 
corps, & si vour, ni'en deliverez, je vous promets. Seigneur Gas- 
parin, de vous faire un tel present, que vous serez heureux tout 
les terns de votre vie, Gasparin qui n'avoit jamais oiii parler de 
telles choses fut tout etonne niant fort et ferme de s'en etre 
jamais vante, Le Gentilhomme qui n'etoit gueres loin de-la 
s'approaclia, & lui dit : Ne vous souvient-il pas maitre, que vous 
me dites telles paroles & telles, & Gasparin assuroit qu'il ne'n 
etoit rien. Etant ainsi tous deux en ce debat, I'un niant & 
I'autre affirmant, Le Due leur dit : Or sus, faites un peu de 
silence, quant a vous maitre Gasparin, je vous donne trois jours 
de terme pour penser a votre cas, & si vous me deliverez de 
misere, je vous promets de vous donner le plus beau chateau qui 
soit en mon pais : et pourrez disposer de moi a v6tre vouloir, 
comme de votre personne propre; autrement soiez assure que 
d'aujourd'hui en buit jours, vous serez pendu & entrangle entre 
les deux colonnes de mon palais. 

Gasparin aiant entendu le vouloir de Due, fut merveil- 
leusement fache, & s'etant parti de sa compagnie, commen9a 
a penser jour & nuit comment il pourroit chasser cet esprit. 
Le jour de I'assignation venu, Gasparin retourna vers le 
Due, & I'aiant fait entendre sur un tapis en terre, commenga 
a conjurer le mauvais esprit qu'il sortit de ce corps et qu'il 
ne- le tourmentat, Le Diable que se reposoit alors en ce 
corps a son plaisir, ne lui repondit autre chose, mais enfla 
si fort la gorge au Due qu'il se sentit quasi mourir, Gas- 
parin reiterant encore sa conjuration, le Diable va repondre : 
Mon compere, vous avez si bon temps, & je suis bien a mon aise 
& vous voulez que je me parte d'ici vous me tormentez en vain 
k ainsi se moquoit du compere, Etant venu Gasparin pour la 
troisieme fois a le conjurer, en lui demandant beaucoup de choses, 
& I'appellant toujours compere ne pouvant imaginer qui c'etoit, 
a la fin il le contraignit de dire quel il etoit. Alors le Diable va 
repondre : Puis que je suis contraint de dire la verite, & vous 
manifester qui je suis ; S9achez que je suis Pancrace Stornel, Mari 
de Silvie Balasrie, ne le s9avez-vous pas bien ? Pensez-vous que 
je ne vous connoisse ? N'etesvous pas Gasparin Boncy, mon 
trescher compere ? Ne S9avez vous pas bien combien de triomphe 
avons fait ensemble ? Helas, mon compere ! repondit Gasparin, 
que faites-vous ici a tourmenter ce pauvre homme, Je ne le 
vous veux pas dire, repondit le Diable, allezvous-en je vous prie, 
& ne me fachez plus ; car je ne me trouverai jamais mieux que 
je fais a present, Alors Gasparin lui fit tant de conjurations, 
qu'il fut contraint de raconter par le menu la cause pourquoi 



388 BELPHEGOR. 

il s'etoit parti d'avec sa femme, & entre a corps du Due, telle- 
ment qui Gasparin lui dit comment mon compere, mon ami, ne 
me voulez-vous pas faire un plaisir. Quel plaisir ? dit le Diable. 
Otez-vous de ce corps ici, repondit Gasparin, & ne le tourmentez 
plus. Mon compere, dit le Diable, vous me semblez un grand 
fol de me demander telles cboses, car je trouve un si grand plaisir 
ici dedans, que je ne s9aurois imaginer d'avantage. Alors Gas- 
parin dit, je vous prie par la foi de compere qui est entre nous 
deux, que me fassiez ce plaisir, pour le present, car si vous ne 
vous partez d'ici je perdrai la vie ; en ce faisant vous serez cause 
de ma mort. Le Diable repondit, il n'y a point pour le jour- 
d'hui de plus mechante & abominable foi que celle d'un com- 
pere, & si vous en mourez ce sera votre dommage & non pas le 
mien. Je ne desire autre chose que de vous voir abime au plus 
profond d'Enfer ; vous deviez etre un peu plus sage, & tenir la 
langue entre les dents ; car un bon taire ne fut jamais ecrit. 
Dites-moi a tout le moins, repondit Gasparin, que fut celui qui 
vous mit en si gi^and travail. Aiez patience, dit le Diable, car 
je ne puis, & si ne le vous veux pas dire. Otez-vous seulement 
d'ici, & n'attendez point d'autre reponse de moi. Et ainsi tout 
depite laissa le pauvre Due plus mort que vif. Mais apres qu'il 
fut un peu revenu, Gasparin lui dit, Seigneur Due prenez 
courage, car vous serez bien-tot delivere. Je ne veux autre chose 
de vous pour le present, sinon que demain au matin vous fassiez 
venir au Palais, tons les Musiciens & joiieurs d'instrumens, & 
que toutes les cloches de la ville sonnent, & qu'on tire toute 
I'artillerie des boullevards, en signe de joie & triomphe, & tant 
plus il y aura grand bruit, tant plus j'en serai content. Puis 
laissez faire a moi. 

Le Matin en suivant, Gasparin s'en alia vers le Palais, & 
commenca a conjurer I'esprit du Due, & cependant qu'il le 
conjuroit, on commen9a a ouir, trompetes, timbres, tabourins, 
bassins, cloches, artilleries, & tant de sortes d'instrumens 
de niusique qui sonnoient en un meme tems, qu'il sembloit 
quasi que le monde diit riiinor. Or ainsi que Gasparin pour- 
suivoit sa conjuration, le Diable lui demanda que signifioit 
telle diversite d'instrumens, & si grande confusion de sons, 
que jamais il n'avoit oiii. Ne le s5avez-vous pas bien, re- 
pondit Gasparin. 'Non ! dit le Diable. Est-il possible, repondit 
Gasparin, parce que nous autres qui sommes envelopez en ce 
corps humain, ne pouvons s9avoir ni entendre tout, a cause 
que cette matiere terrienne eft trop grosse, je vous le dirai en 
peu de paroles, si vous mecoutez sans molester ce pauvre Due ? 
Dites le moi, je vous prie, dit le Diable, & je vous ecouterai 
volontiers, vous promettant de ne lui donner point de facherie. 
Alors Gasparin lui va dire ; sgachez mon compere, mon ami, que 
le Due voiant que vous ne le voulez-pas laisser, & que ne cessez 
de le tourmenter, aiant entendu que vous avez laisse votre 
femme pour le grand toui'ement quelle vous donnoit, il la 



BELPHEGOR. 389 

envoie querir, tellement que toute la cite fait fete & triomphe 
pour sa venue. Ce qu'entendment le Diable, lui va diie : 
mechant compere, vous etes plus tin & plus ruse que moi ! Ne 
vous dis-je pas hier qu'on ne trouva jamais compere que fut 
loial a I'autre. Vous avez ete I'inventeur & celui que la fait 
venir. Mais j'ai en si grand horreur & ai en si grande haine le 
nomme de ma fenime, que j'aime mieux demeurer au plus pro- 
fond d'Enfer que de la voir pres de moi. Au moien dequoi 
jenie veux partir dici, & m'en aller si loin que vous n'aurez 
jamais nouvelles de moi. Et aiant dit cela, avec un enflement 
de gorge, & tournant les yeux en la tete, & autres signes epou- 
ventables, il se partit du corps du Due ; tellement q'aiant 
laisse une grande puanteur, le Due fut delivre du tout de cet 
esprit. Bientot apres, le pauvre Due revint en son premier etat, 
& recouvra ses forces accoutumees, & ne voulant pas etre ingrat, 
fit appeller Gasparin & le fit Seigneur d'un fort beau chateau, 
en lui donnant grande quantite de deniers & serviteurs pour la 
servir, & en depit des envieux, le bon Gasparin vecut longue- 
nient en felicite. Et Madame Silvie voiant ses beaux vetemens 
bagues & anneaux etre convertis en cendre & fumee, mourut 
bientot apres miserablement & comme desesperee. 

Ce conte fut raconte par le Trevisan, avec grandes merveilles 
et fut grandement louee, memement pas les hommes avec ris 
excessifs. Vrai est qu'elle deplut quelque peu aux Dames, telle- 
ment que Madame oiant les Damoiselles murmurer assez bas, & 
les continuez ris des hommes, commanda que chacun mit fin a 
ses propos, que le Trevisan commen^at son Enigme ; lequel sans 
prendre autre excuse envers les Dames de ce qu'il les avoit si 
vivement piquees, commen9a son Enigme. 

Enigm^. 

Mes dames nous avons une chose entre nous 
Belle en perfection si one beautd fut belle, 
Qui sans langue, sans mains, pieds ni chose telle; 
Parle, touche, chemine & se montre k tous coups, 
Sans yeux elle regarde, & nous contemple tous, 
Ce ne'st qu'entendement, et n'a poiat de cervelle, 
Elle peut tout sans vous, & vous rien sans icelle, 
Car de notre puissance elle tient les deux bouts. 
Toujours elle nous suit, compagnant notre vie, 
Qui sans son bon secours nous seroit tot ravie, 
Elle est fifldle, aimant en toute extrdmitid. 
Des long-tems avant nous, dedans nous elle est nde, 
Elle ne craiut la raort n'y etant destinee, 
Ainsi vive elle vit en toute etrernitd. 

L'obscur Enigme raconte par le Trevisan donna bien a rever 
aux assistans, & chacun mettoit peine en vain de lui bailler la 
vraie interpretation, tellement que le Trevisan, voiant que leurs 
opinions etoiant bien eloignees de la verite, dit : Messeigneurs, il 



390 BELPHEGUR. 

ne me semble pas convenable de tenir longuement en suspens 
cette honorable compagnie. Si vous trouvez bon que je vous en 
die nion opinion, je vous la dirai volontiers, ou bien j'attendrai 
la resolution de quelque gentil esprit. Tous d'une voix le 
prierent de I'interpreter, Alors le Trevisan. va dire que son 
Enigme ne signifioit autre chose, si non Tame immortelle, la- 
quelle est esprit, & n'a ne tete ni pieds, ni mains, & fait toute 
operation, & ou elle est jugee, soit au ciel ou a I'Enfer, elle vit 
eternellement, Cette docte exposition de I'obscur Enigme plut 
inerveilleusement a toute la notable compagnie. Et pour 
autant qu'il etoit deja passe une grande partie de la nuit, et que 
les coqs commen^oient a annoneer le jour ensuivant. Madame 
fit signe a Viucende qui etoit la derniere en song rang pour 
diviser en cette seconde nuit, qu'elle dut finir la nuitee avec 
quelque plaisant conte. JMais elle qui etoit devenue toute 
vermeille au visage par couleur naturelle quelle avoit, non point 
par une honte, mais plutot par le couroux, & depit qu'elle avoit 
concude ce conte auparavant raconte, dit telles paroles contre 
Trevisan : Seigneur Benoit j'estimois que fussiez plus paisible, 
& que tiussiez plus le parti des Dames que vous ne faites, mais 
comme je ne puis comprendre par le conte de vous recite, vous 
leurs etes fort contraire. Car si que me fait penser que vous vous 
sentez outrage de quelq'une qui etoit possible trop indiscrette 
en sa demande. Toutefois encore ne devriez-vous pas si apre- 
ment blamer les autres, car combien que nous soions forgees 
d'une matiere, si est-ce qu'on en voit tous les jours, une plus 
gentille de meilleur esprit que I'autre. Deportez-vous done de 
plus les blamer en telle maniere. Car si elles vous mettent une 
fois la dent dessus, vos sons & chants ne vous serviront de rien. 
Quant a moi, dit le Tre"\dsan, je n'ai point fait cela pour 
faire tort a la moindre, ni pour me.venger de ses paroles, mais 
pour instruire les autres qui se mariorant, apres moi, detre plus 
modestes vers lem's maris. Or bien, quoi qu'il en soit, dit 
Damoiselle Yincende, je ne m'en soucie gueres, & moins ces 
autres Dames y presentes. Mais afin qu'il ne semble jDoint que 
par mon silence je vueille tenir le parti des liommes, & etre 
contre aux Dames, j'en veux raconter un qui vous donnera 
grande instruction, & aient fait la reverence, commenga a dire. 



II.— THE MARRIAGE OF BELPHEGOR, 

BY 

NICHOLAS MACHIAYEL. 



Of this ancient legend there are two English, versions. The first 
of these is to he found in the " AYorks of the famous l!^icholas 
Machiarel, citizen and secretary of Florence, written originally 
in Italian, and from thence newly and faithfully translated into 
English." This translation was licensed upon the 2d February 
1674, and the third edition, "carefully corrected," was printed 
at London, 1720 — folio. The translator's name is not given, but 
a curious statement made by Bishop Warburton might induce a 
belief that it may have been no less a person than the first 
Marquis of "Wharton, the reputed author of the celebrated 
political ballad of Lilliburlero. 

The Bishop says, that having had access to the "WTiarton 
papers, he found the first proof of the translation of the letter 
said to have been written by ^Slachiavel, — "to Zanobius Buondel- 
montius in vindication of himself and his writings," — carefully 
corrected throughout by the Marquis for the original folio 
edition. It comes immediately before the letter. It is from 
this version that the tale has been now reprinted. 

Machiavel was at a later date translated by the Eev. Ellis 
Farneworth, M. A., Vicar of Eosthern, in Cheshire, who also 
translated the Life of Pope Sixtus V., and Davila's Civil Wars 
of France. The first work was published at London in 1762, 
in two volumes 4to. It is now much esteemed, although on the 
original publication it met with little patronage, and very many 
copies were disposed of as waste paper, which has made the 
remaining copies difficult to procure. " Belphegor's Marriage" 
occurs in the second volume, page 165. The older translation 
has been selected as the one which we may presume was used 
by "Wilson. 

According to the Biographie Universelle, Straparola was 
born towards the end of the fifteenth century, and died after 
1557 — the year in which the first edition of his tales was given 
to the public. Machiavel is generally believed to have departed 
this life in 1530, and it is understood that during his lifetime he 
was not known as the author of the "Marriage of Belphegor;" 
This much is certain, that the tale was not included in the 
edition of his works published 1550. On the other hand. 



392 BELPHEGOR. 

Straparola's version of the Devil's Marriage appeared whilst he 
was in life. Though both tales originate out of the inquiry 
instituted by his Satanic Majestj'' as to the treatment of hus- 
bands on earth, they vary considerably in detail ; and it may 
fairly be assumed that the authors in both instances took their 
text from some ancient manuscript chronicle or from tradition. 



It is recorded in the ancient Chronicles of Florence, that a 
certain holy person, whose life was the admiration of that age, 
falling one day into a trance, had a very strange apparition. 
It seemed to him that the souls of married men, that came 
trooping in great numbers to hell, cried out all of them as they 
passed, that their marriage was the cause of their misery, and 
their wives the occasion of their coming thither. Minos, Eada- 
manthus, and the whole infernal privy council were amazed at 
the clamour. At first they could not believe there was anything 
in the business ; but at last, observing the same complaints 
continually multiplied, they thought it fit to make Pluto 
acquainted. Pluto, understanding the report, without impart- 
ing anything to his wife (who had taken physic that week, and 
kept her chamber), resolved tlie matter should be accurately 
examined, and such course be taken as was likeliest to make 
the speediest discovery of the truth. He issued out his writs 
immediately, and assembled his courts. His princes, dukes, 
counts, and barons were all present — never was senate so full, 
nor never was affair of that importance before it. The holy 
father that beheld all affirms positively that Pluto delivered 
himself in this manner : — 

"Right trusty and well beloved, 

"Though our kingdom was assigned us from heaven, and the 
fatal decree has anciently determined our dominion ; though 
that sentence be irrevocable, and above the cognisance of any 
human power ; yet seeing his prudence is most safe that is 
dictated by laws, and his judgment most solid that is fortified 
with others, we are resolved to take your counsels along with 
us, which way we are to steer in an affair that otherwise may 
prove in time of great dishonour to our government. The 
souls of married men, that are continually flocking into our 
dominions, do unanimously exclaim against their wives as the 
only persons that send them tumbling hither. To us it seems 
impossible ; yet, forasmuch as a peremptory and determinate 
sentence upon their bare allegations Avould not suit with our 
Satanical mercy, so a careless pretermission on the other side 
could not be without reflection on our justice. That matters of 
such importance, therefore, may have their due disquisition, and 
our administration be defended from obloquy or scandal, — that 
no inconveniency may follow for want of deliberation, and that 



BELPHEGOR. 393 

some better expedient may be found out than ourselves have 
happily thought on, we have thought good to call you together, 
being confident and assured, by the assistance of your counsels, 
the honour and reputation of our empire will be continued as 
unquestionable for the future as it has been preserved hitherto 
by our own proper care and solicitude." 

There was not one present but acknowledged it a business 
of importance, and well worthy an exact consideration. It was 
the opinion of the whole board that all imaginable means were 
to be used to find out the truth, but what means these were could 
not be agreed on. Some were of opinion a single person was to 
be despatched into this world, and no more ; others judged it 
better to send several, and that the discovery would be more 
certain from the experience of many than of one ; and a third 
sort, more brisk and severe in their counsels, thought that 
clutter unnecessary, and that clapping good store of them 
together upon the rack would be enough, doubtless, to extort a 
confession. However, it was at last carried by the plurality of 
voices that a single person only should be sent, and in this 
resolution the whole company acquiesced. Nevertheless, there 
being nobody found that would voluntarily undertake the 
employment, it was concluded the election should be by lot ; 
and at the same time, having made the billets and shuffled 
them, the lot fell upon Belphegor. 

One may say, and say true, that fortune never decided any- 
thing so justly, for Belphegor was no ordinary devil ; and Pluto 
having made him formerly Generalissimo of his armies, 'tis to 
be presumed he was no novice. For all this, he had a month's 
mind to be quit of his embassy ; but the order being unalter- 
able, he was forced to submit, and accept these conditions, that 
were solemnly decreed : That an hundred thousand ducats should 
be paid him immediately, to defray the expenses of his journey; 
that he should assume the shape of a man ; that he should take 
a woman to his wedded wife, and live with her (if possible) ten 
years ; that at the end of the term (pretending to die), he should 
give her the slip, repair immediately to his old quarters, and 
make affidavit upon his own experience of all the pleasures and 
calamities of matrimony. It was declared to him also, that 
during tliis metamorphosis he was to be subject to the pains 
and misfortunes of humanity, — as sickness, imprisonment, and 
poverty ; but that, if by his cunning and dexterity he could dis- 
entangle himself, it should be allowed him, and not imputed as 
any scandal or reproach. Belphegor accepts the conditions, 
receives his ducats, and having drawn a spruce party of horse out 
of his guards, and furnished himself with pages and footmen good 
store, he set out immediately for this world, and arrived at Flor- 
ence in a very fair equipage. He chose that place above all other 
for the conveniency of improving his money, and putting it to in- 
terest with greater advantage. He called himself Don Roderick (^eW-'^ 



394 BELPHEGOR. 

of Castile ; lie took a very noble house in the Fauxbiirg of All- 
Saiuts, and, that his quality might be undiscovered, he gave out 
that he was a Spaniard; that being young, he took a voyage into 
Syria ; that he had dwelt some time in Aleppo, where he had got 
most part of his estate ; but being weary there, he was come 
into Italy as a country more agreeable with his humour, with 
intention (if any fair opportunity was offered) to marry, 

Don Roderick seemed to be a very handsome man, about 
thirty years of age, and in short time after his arrival he made 
it evident enough that he was rich, and by his liberality that he 
knew how to make the best use of his wealth ; insomuch that 
several gentlemen of Florence that had more daughters than 
money took all possible pains to insinuate how welcome he 
should be into their alliance. Don Roderick, that had choice 
of mistresses, preferred one that was transcendently handsome 
before them all. The story says she was called Honesta, and was 
the daughter of Americ Donati, who had three more also to 
marry, and three sons between twenty and twenty-five years ot 
age. But though Seigneur Americ was of one of the noblest 
families of Florence, yet he was looked upon as down the wind, 
and one that was overlaid with too many children, and the un- 
avoidable charges of his nobility. But Don Roderick took an 
order for that, defraying the whole expense of his wedding out 
of his own purse, managing all things with that splendour and 
magnificence that there was nothing omitted that was desirable 
upon such an occasion. It was mentioned before, as one of the 
conditions proposed to Belphegor, that as soon as he was out of 
the infernal dominions he should be subject to all the passions 
of mankind ; and accordingly, he began immediately to take 
delight in the honours and gallantry of the world, and, as 
cunning a devil as he was, to be wheedled with the flatteries 
and applauses of men. But that which delighted him so much 
cost him dear. Besides that, he had not been long with Honesta 
but he fell stark mad in love with her ; and finding something 
or other extraordinary in her that I cannot think of, he was so 
far enamoured he never thought himself happy before ; inso- 
much as, when she was melancholy or out of humour, he would 
curse his commission, and take his corporal oath his very life 
was tedious. On the other side, it was not to be forgot that 
Honesta, marrying Roderick, and bringing him beauty and 
nobility instead of a portion, she thought it not fit to leave her 
pride and untractableness behind her. These two good qualities 
were so eminently in her, that Roderick, who had been used to 
Lucifer's, and had more than once experienced it, swore point- 
blank his wife's insolence was beyond it. For when she once 
found the fondness and passion her husband had for her, 
believing she could manage him with a switch, and order him 
as she pleased, she carried herself like his sovereign, and 
handled him without pity or respect ; and if it happened he 



BELPHEGOR. 395 

denied her anything, she gave him immediately to understand 
that she was also as eloquent in scolding as others of her quality. 
By this you may judge what a cooler this was to Don Roderick ; 
nevertheless, the consideration of his father-in-law, his wife's 
brothers, the kindred he had by that blessed marriage, but 
above all, the passion and tenderness he had for her, made him 
endure all patiently. I shall not mention the expense of her 
clothes, which, though never so rich, he was forced to change 
every Aveek, according to the ordinary vanity of the ladies in 
Florence. Besides these, there were other things of no less 
inconvenience. He was forced (to preserve the peace) to assist 
his father-in-law in the marriage of his other daughters, which 
cost him a good round sum. Moreover, that all things might 
go well, and his correspondence continue with his comfort, he 
was glad to send one of her brothers into the Levant with 
woollen stuffs, another into France and Spain Avith silks, and 
to furnish the third with wherewithal to set up a goldsmith's 
shop in Florence. All which afflictions together were sufficient 
to discompose any devil of a thousand, yet he had other thrown 
into the bargain. There is not any town in all Italy more 
extravagant in their expenses in their carnivals and feasts of St. 
John than Florence ; and Honesta upon that occasion must 
needs have her Eoderick outdo all people of his rank, in the 
sumptuousness of his entertainments, in the magnificence of his 
balls, and other divertisements that are usual at those times. 
He suffered all these calamities for the same reasons he endured 
the rest ; and though, perhaps, these difficulties were very hard 
and unpleasant, he would have thought them supportable 
could he have been satisfied his patience would have procured 
any quietness in his family, and that he might have peaceably 
awaited the hour of his destruction. But Don Roderick found 
the clear contrary. Besides the expense she occasioned, her 
insolence was accompanied with a thousand other inconveni- 
ences, insomuch as he could keep neither man nor maid servant 
in his house above three days together. This was severe trouble 
to him, to find it was impossible for him to keep anybody about 
him, though never so well experienced or affected to his affairs ; 
nor indeed could anybody blame them for taking their leaves, 
when the devils themselves that he brought along with him 
did choose rather to return, and toast the laottoms of their feet 
against the fire of hell, than live in this world under the 
dominion of so super-devilish a woman. 

Roderick's life being thus miserably uncomfortable, and the 
stock that he had reserved exhausted by her extravagant ex- 
penses, he was reduced to that pass he subsisted only upon the 
hopes of the advantage he should make by the return of some 
vessels he had sent into the east and west. Having very good 
credit in that town, he resolved to keep up his rank, and 
borrowed money of such as are used in that place to put it out ; 



396 BELPHEGOR. 

but tliose kind of people being sucb as are not usually sleepy 
or negligent in their aflfairs, they took notice immediately he 
was not over-punctual to his day. His purse being already 
empty, and he reduced to the highest extremity, at one dash he 
receives news of two as disastrous accidents as could possibly 
befall him. The first was, that one of Honesta's brothers had 
lost at hazard, all that Roderick had intrusted in his hands ; 
and the other, that his other brother-in-law, returning into 
Italy, was himself cast away and all his goods. The business 
was no sooner known in Florence but his creditors had a meet- 
ing, where, giving him over for one that was irrecoverably lost, 
and not daring to discover themselves because the time of pay- 
ment was not yet come, they concluded he was to be watched 
very close, lest he should chouse them and show them a light 
pair of heels. 

Don Rodei-ick of Castile, on the other side, considering with 
himself his affairs were past remedy, resolves to take horse and 
depart without any more ado, which he performed without nmch 
difficulty, living conveniently for that by the Port del Prato. 
Yet he was no sooner marched off but the alarm was taken by 
his creditors. They repair immediately to the magistrates, and 
pursue him not only with post and officers, but, lest a certain 
number of ducats should debauch that kind of cattle, who are 
no better in Italy than other places, and prevail with them for 
an abatement of their speed, they follow him themselves in 
a full body, with impatience of hearing some tidings of him. 
Roderick in the meantime was no fool, but considered very well 
what he had to do. As soon as he was galloped about half a 
league from the town, he leaves the highway and his horse with 
it (the country being inclosed and full of ditches on both sides), 
and was forced to make the rest of his journey on foot, which 
he did very successfully ; for, wandering up and down under the 
shelter of the vines and reeds that abound much in those parts, 
he arrived at last at Peretola, at the house of Jean Matteo del 
Bricca, bailie to Jean del Bene. 

By good fortune he meets Matteo carrying fodder to his 
cattle. He accosts Mm immediately, and promises him, as he 
was a gentleman, that if he Avould deliver him from the catch- 
poles that were in pursuit of him with design to claj) him up 
and starve him in prison, he had an invention in his pate would 
make him rich out of hand, and of this he would give such 
evidence before he departed as should assure him of his truth 
and fidelity. "And if I do not," says he, with a damn'd impre- 
cation, " I will be content to be delivered up into thsir clutches 
that persecute me." Now you must understand that though 
Matteo was a hind and a peasant, yet the fellow had cunning 
enough, and knew on which side his bread was buttered. He 
considered, if he undertook him, and miscarried, he had nothing 
to lose, and that if he sacceeded he should be made for ever. 



BELPHEGOR. 397 

Without any more ado, therefore, he promises him protection, 
and clapping him close upon a dunghill that -svas before the 
gate, he covered himself over with brush-faggots and reeds, and 
such other fuel as lay there in readiness for the fire. And, in- 
deed, he "was no sooner in his retirement but in came the 
creditors with full cry. They swaggered and laid about them 
like lords, but all to no purpose, Matteo could not be persuaded 
to confess so much as he saw him ; insomuch as, marching on 
still in the pursuit, but with as little success as they came 
thither, thej gave Roderick and their money over for lost, and 
returned to Florence every jot as wise as they were before. 
The coast being clear in this manner, and the alarm over, 
Matteo steals to the place where he had left Eodeiick, gives 
him a little fresh air, and conjures him to be as good as his 
word, Roderick was very honest in that point, and I dare say 
never any devil, as to matters of gratitude, had more of a gentle- 
man. He gave him thanks for the great obligation he had 
received ; he swore over and over again he would do whatever 
lay in his power to discharge himself of his promise ; and in the 
heat and height of his compliments, to convince him he meant 
as he said, he gives him the whole story as you have had it, 
and at last told him the very way he had pitched upon to make 
him a prince, " Know then, " says he, "that whenever you hear 
of any lady that is possessed, 'tis no other devil but I that have 
possessed her, and be sure I will never leave her till you come 
yourself and force me from my quarters ; after which you have 
wit enough to make your own terms for your payment. " They 
had very few words more ; he only gave him the summerset 
once or twice, and showed him two or three juggling tricks, and 
vanished. 

Awhile after, there was a great noise about the town that 
Ambrosio Amidei's daughter, that was married to Bonaculo 
Thebalducci's son, was possessed. Her father and mother did 
not fail to use all the remedies are usual in so deplorable a 
case. They brought before her St. Zanobi's head and St. J. 
Gaulbert's cloak, which was nuts to Belphegor, and made 
him do nothing but laugh. There was nobody in her but 
Don Roderick de Castile, who was as ingenious a gentleman 
de\'il as one would wish ; and that the world might take notice 
that this was no fantastic imagination, nor fit of the nightmare, 
nor any such trifle, but that she was really possessed, she spake 
Latin better than TuUy ever writ, disputed in philosophy, and 
discovered the secrets and sins of several people that were there, 
who were very much surprised to find the devil concern himself 
with those kind of aft'airs. 

Amongst the rest was one holy father he did great dis- 
courtesy to, in blurting out before the whole company as if he 
had kept a young lass four years together in his cell in the 
habit of a young monk ; and after all this, let anybody judge 



398 BELPHEGOR. 

whether the possession was not like to be true. Ambrosio, in 
the meantime, was in great affliction for his daughter. He had 
tried all the ways that physic or religion could propose, but to 
no purpose, so as he was brought to the highest point of 
despair when Matteo came to him, and undertook to cure his 
daughter if he would give him five hundred florins, which he 
designed to lay out in land at Peretola. In short, Matteo was 
an honest fellow, and would have done the miracle gratis, and 
like a gentleman, but his pockets were hollow, and he had great 
occasion for money at that time. Seignior Ambrosio accepts the 
conditions, and Matteo falls to work. He began very civilly, 
with certain masses and other ceremonies, that he might appear 
the more formal in the business. At length he stole to the lady's 
ear, calls Roderick, and tells him he was come thither to him, 
and did require him to be as good as his word. "Content," 
says Roderick ; "and that you may see I shall deal with you like 
a person of quality, take notice, that because this expedition is 
not enough to enrich you and do your business, I will befriend 
you more than once ; for Avhich reason, as soon as I am departed 
from hence, away 1 11 march into the daughter of Charles, King 
of Naples ; and don't fear but I'll stick to her till you come to 
exorcise me, so as there you may make up your markets at a 
blow, and become considerable for ever. But be sure after that 
I be troubled with you no more." And as soon as he had said 
so, he whipped out of the lady, and was gone, to the great joy 
and astonishment of the whole town. 

Belphegor in the meantime was as good as his word. As he 
promised Matteo, away he goes, and in two or three days' time 
it was all over Italy that the daughter of Charles, King of i^aples, 
was in the same condition, which was good news for Matteo, who 
was at this bout to gain the philosopher's stone. The king 
tried all means possible : the monks went to work with their 
praj^ers and their crosses, but to no purpose; the devil would 
not budge till Matteo came himself, who had formerly obliged 
him. The king had news of what had happened at Florence, 
and sends away immediately for Matteo to his court, who came 
accordingly, and after some few ceremonious formalities, counter- 
feited for concealment of the mystery, he cures his daughter. 
However, Roderick, before his departure, as is reported in the 
chronicle, accosted him in this manner : ' ' You see, Matteo, I 
have been as good as my word ; you see you are become rich in 
a trice, and may take your ease for the future, so as, if I be not 
mistaken, I have discharged myself as to you very honestly. 
Hereafter have a care how you come near me, for as hitherto I 
have done you knight service, henceforward I will do you as 
much mischief as I can. " Matteo, being returned to Florence 
very wealthy (for the King of Naples had given him above five 
thousand ducats), he thought of nothing now but enjoying that 
peaceably he had got, never imagining Roderick would do him 



BELPHEGOR. 399 

any harm ; but his designs were much frustrated by a report out 
of France that Lewis the Seventh's daughter was possessed in 
the same way as the daughter of the King of Naples had been. 
Matteo was not ignorant of the power of Lewis ; on the other, 
he remembered Roderick's last words. The king used all means 
possible, but without any success. He was told what feats Matteo 
had done, and despatched a post to him immediately, to desire 
his company at Paris ; but Matteo, pretending indispositions, 
that rendered him incapable of serving his majesty, the king 
was forced to write to the magistrates, who sent away Matteo 
immediately. 

Being arrived at Paris, he was in great affliction, because he 
knew not which Avay for his life to perform what was expected 
from him. At last he goes to the king, and tells him that true 
it was indeed he had formerly wrought some cures in that kind, 
but that it was not in reason to be expected he could dispossess 
all people he met with, seeing there were some devils so re- 
fractory and cross-grained, neither threats, nor enchantments, 
nor devotion itself would do any good on. That he said not 
this out of any repugnancy or unwillingness to do as he was 
desired, but that in case his endeavours were ineffectual he 
might have his majesty's pardon. The king was stark mad at 
the story, and told him in plain terms, if he did not rout the 
devil out of his daughter, as he had done out of others, he 
would hang him forthwith, for he saw no reason why miracles 
were not as feasible at Paris as at Florence and Naples. These 
words touched Matteo to the quick ; he thought there was no 
pleasure to be taken in being hanged in that manner, and that 
what the king had said was without any equivocation. How- 
ever, he recollected himself a little, or at least pretended so, 
and calling for the princess that was possessed, he makes his 
approaches, and whispering her in the ear, told Roderick he 
was his very humble servant, and put him in mind of the good 
office he had done him, when he delivered him out of the 
talons of the law ; adding, withal, that if he left him in the 
lurcli in the extremity of danger he was then in, the whole 
world would cry out on his ingratitude. Roderick heard him 
with no more patience than needs must ; he swaggers, swears, 
storms, and lays about him like a devil in good earnest, gives 
him a thousand and a thousand ill words, but they could dis- 
tinguish only these few at the last : ** How, now, you rascally 
traitor, have you the impudence to come near me again ? Have 
you forgot it was I that made you your fortune? But I'll make 
all the world see, and you too, with a pox to you, that I can 
take away as well as give ; besides which, you shall not fail to 
be hanged before I get away from Paris. " 

Poor Matteo, seeing no other remedy for his misfortunes, 
lie fell athinking some other way ; and having sent back the 
lady to her chamber, he made this speech to the king : " Sir, I 



400 BELPHEGOR. 

have told you before that there are certain ill-natured, capricious 
spirits one knows not which way to deal withal, and of this 
sort is that which possesses your daughter. If what we shall 
administer might be sufficient, your majesty should be happy in 
your desire, and mine also ; but if things prove otherwise, and 
your majesty be not satisfied with my endeavours, I shall sub- 
mit, and your majesty may deal with me as I deserve. In the 
meantime, I desire your majesty would give order a theatre be 
erected in the church-yard of Notre Dame, big enough to 
receive all the nobility and clergy in the town. Let this 
theatre, if your majesty think good, be hung with cloth of 
gold and other rich stuffs, and an altar set up in the middle on 
Sunday next. I would desire your majesty to be there, with all 
the princes and nobility in Paris ; and after a grand mass is 
sung, let the princess be brought also. Besides this, it is 
necessary there should be twenty persons at least, with trumpets, 
horns, drums, hoboys, and cymbals, ready in some byplace, 
when I throw up my cap into the air, to advance towards the 
theatre with all the noise they can make ; which music, with 
some other ingredients that I have, will send the devil packing 
from the princess." The king gave order all things should be 
done as Matteo requested, and Sunday being come, and the 
theatre thronged with a multitude of persons of quality, and 
the chiu'ch-yard of Notre Dame full of people, the princess was 
led in by two bishops, and followed by several lords of the 
court. Roderick was in a terrible amaze to behold so magni- 
ficent a prej^aration, and pondering with himself, was overheard 
to pronounce these words : '* I would fain know what this rascally 
peasant means to do. I have i^een many places — I have more 
than once seen the whole pomp of heaven, nor am I ignorant of 
what is most formidable in hell, yet can I not tell what to 
make of this ; but I'll handle him like a rogue as he is, and if I 
fail, Pluto requite me." Matteo came up close to him, and 
desired him very civilly to depart ; but Roderick cried out, "Oh, 
the wondrous cunning that is in you ! Do you think by this 
whimsey to save yourself from my power and the indignation 
of the king ? But think what you will, you scoundrel, I am 
resolved you shall hang for it, or else let me pass for the most 
miserable, poor-spirited devil in the world. " Matteo persisted in 
his request, but Belphegor gave him worse language than before. 
But all that frighted not Matteo ; for without losing more 
time, he threw his hat up in the air, and at an instant the 
trumpets, horns, and all the rest of the music struck up and 
advanced towards the theatre. Roderick was startled at the 
noise, and made it manifest that there are some devils as fearful 
as men ; and not able to imagine the reason, he called out to 
Matteo, and asked what was the matter? Matteo, being a 
cunning rogue every inch of him, as if he had been terribly 
frighted, informs him thus : "Alas ! poor Roderick," says he, 



BELPHEGOR. 401 

'* 'tis your wife Honesta is come to seek you at Paris." He said 
no more, but it is not to be imagined what disorder these four 
or five words put the devil into : they took away his wit and 
judgment, so as, without any consideration whether the news 
was possible or not, without speaking one word, away he stole 
from the princess, choosing rather to go back into hell, and give 
up Jiis accounts there, than to return again into the thraldom of 
matrimony, that had already cost him so many sorrows and 
dangers. As soon as he arrived, he demanded audience, and in 
the presence of Pluto, ^acus, Minos, and Eadamanthus, all of 
them councillors of state, he declared that the souls of men 
were in the right on it, and that 'twas their wives that sent 
them to hell. 

Matteo, who had been too crafty for the devil, returned to 
Florence in great triumph. The Chronicle mentions not any 
great matter the king gave him, but it says, that having gained 
sufficiently by the two former, he esteemed himself very happy 
that he had escaped hanging in Paris, 



FINIS. 



2 C 



MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, 
PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTX'S STATIONERY OFFICE. 



